


MARY- F- LEO NARD 


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BOOKS BY 

MARY F. LEONARD 


Everyday Susan 

Eight illustrations by Laetitia 
Herr. 370 pages. 8vo, $1.50. 

The Story of the Big Front Door 
Illustrated. 258 pages. 12mo* 
75 cents. 

It All Came True 

Illustrated. 141 pages. 12mo, 
75 cents. 

How the Two Ends Met 

Illustrated. 97 pages. 12mo, 
75 cents. 

Half a Dozen Thinking Caps 

Frontispiece. 80 pages. 8vo, 
50 cents. 

The Candle and the Cat 

Frontispiece. 88 pages. 8vo, 
50 cents. 


THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 

NEW YORK 





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See page 24 . 

“THE TWO GIRLS STOOD SIDE BY SIDE IN BREATHLESS SILENCE.” 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


A STORY FOR GIRLS 


BY 

MARY F. LEONARD 

»! 

AUTHOR OF “the STORY OP THE BIG FRONT DOOR” 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
LAETITIA HERR 


NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 



Copyright, 1912, by 
Thomas Y. Crowell Company 


n 



^CI,A3<;054G 

/ 


TO 


MY GOD-DAUGHTER 


Hutp <®ilmer i&oiitnsion 


I 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Susan Makes a Wish 1 

II. Saturday Afternoon 13 

III. Holliday 20 

IV. Plans 32 

V. Miss Margaret’s School 45 

VI. The Brocade Lady 57 

VII. The Wise Man . 66 

VIII. Christmas Tree House ..... 78 

IX. An Adventure .91 

X. A Black Spider 103 

XI. A Tribute to Genius 117 

XII. “ Fair as a Star ” 131 

XIII. Organizing 144 

XIV. Christmas Eve 157 

XV. In Society 167 

XVI. By Way of Alloy 180 

XVII. Self and Son 191 

XVIII. “ For Better, For Worse ”... 206 

XIX. Among Other Things 220 

XX. Elsie 230 

XXI. April Fool ........ 241 

XXII. Aline’s Secret 254 

XXIII. At the Bazaar 267 


viii CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIV. The Colonel . . 283 

XXV. May-day 292 

XXVI. Dick 302 

XXVII. Being a Sister 315 

XXVIII. The Lost Lenore 328 

XXIX. Joe’s Luck 338 

XXX. “ Look in a Book ” 351 

XXXI. The Brocade Lady’s Son .... 356 
XXXII. From the Red Diary 364* 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ The two girls stood side by side in breath- 
less silence . . ... . . . Frontispiece 

OPPOSITE 

PAGE 

* Oh, I know it isn’t easy/ Miss Margaret owned ” 72 

‘‘ She called the ‘ Girondists ’ Gridironists . . . 106 

“ The word ‘ shrine ’ caused Susan and her brother 


to exchange glances ” 146 

"‘The tragedy of Self and Son” 192 


“ She was very happy over their coming ” . . . 234 ^ 

“ " A monkey grinder ! A monkey grinder ! ’ ” . 298 i/^ 
“ ‘ I suppose it is funny,’ he said rather tragically ” 334 


ix 



EVERYDAY SUSAN 


CHAPTER I 

SUSAN MAKES A WISH 

0 lovely moon, so bright and new, 

Shining above me in the blue, 

1 whisper now my wish to you. 

And hope and hope it may come true. 

Her Shyness sat in the swinging seat and 
with her head over her shoulder watched the 
clouds, rose tinted and violet, which the set- 
ting sun had left behind. She wore a blue 
muslin, with bows to match on her brown 
braids, and her blue eyes were very serious. 
Her Shyness was lonely. 

As she watched, there appeared, quite with- 
out warning, a tiny thread of a new moon 
just above the spire of St. Mark’s. “ Here 
I am,” it seemed to say, “ and there are you, 
seeing me over the right shoulder and clear 
of the maple trees; why not wish for what 
you want and see if it does not come true? ” 
The chance was too good to be overlooked. 
Wishes sometimes come true in a surpris- 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


ing way, and sometimes they do not. If new 
moons and right shoulders or left ones, and 
tree branches, have anything to do with it, it 
has never been clearly shown what, but it is 
fun to pretend they have. 

Whenever Susan thinks of that eventful 
winter, she remembers this September evening 
and how she made her wish, recording it later 
in the red diary, on the first page of which is 
inscribed in old English letters: “Thoughts 
and Adventures of Susan Norris Maxwell.” 
The diary is old and shabby now, then it was 
brand new. In fact, at the moment she made 
the wish it had not arrived, but was on the way 
in Father’s pocket. 

While she was still gazing at the infant moon, 
Joe came in the gate. “Well, Susan II er- 
mione, what are you looking so solemn about? ” 
he demanded. 

“ I wish you wouldn’t call me that, Joe,” said 
Susan. “ People will think it is really my 
name, and I have nicknames enough without 
it.” 

“ Why, it is a delightful name,” Joe insisted, 
sitting on the porch railing and laughing at 
her. 


SUSAN MAKES A WISH S 

“ It sounds like the heroine of a novel.” 

“ Heroines aren’t ever named Susan.” 

“Aren’t they, though? How about Susan 
Nipper?” 

Susan laughed, for she had read “ Dombey 
and Son.” “ But you can’t think of another,” 
she said. 

Miss Julia Anderson was responsible for 
this latest and most absurd name. She had 
heard Joe call Susan “ Hermie,” which was 
short for Hermit, and immediately jumped to 
the romantic conclusion that her middle name 
was Hermione. Anybody who thinks this an 
incredible jump, never knew Miss Julia, who 
was at this time a fascinating and popular 
young lady, who lived across the street. She 
recited beautifully, was deeply read in Shake- 
speare, and was said to be thinking of the stage. 
She was also a friend of Joe’s. 

“ You can’t think of another,” Susan re- 
peated as Joe appeared to be sunk in deep 
thought. 

“ How about ‘ Susie’s Six Birthdays ’? ” he 
presently asked in triumph. 

“Nonsense! A baby book. That doesn’t 
count.” 


4 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

“ Well, ‘ Susan Sinclair the Sister of Silas,* 
then.” 

“ Now you are making up,” cried Susan, 
trying not to smile. 

“ Very well, if you doubt my veracity. I’ll 
go,” and Joe disappeared within the front 
door. 

Left alone, Susan looked up at the moon 
again. Seeing her there, her blue ruffles spread 
out around her, her hands clasped in her lap, 
one slippered foot touching the floor now and 
then to keep up a gentle motion, you would 
never have guessed she was what Joe called a 
dreadful little goose. But she was, and deep 
down in her heart she was beginning to realize 
it, though she had told herself over and over 
that she couldn’t help it any more than she 
could the color of her eyes, or the cowlick that 
was exactly like Joe’s and gave her so much 
trouble. 

Great Aunt Henrietta on Father’s side said 
Susan should have been spanked, — well 
spanked years ago. Aunt Emily, who was 
Mother’s sister, prescribed heart-to-heart talks 
as better suiting a child of such intelligence. 
Mother leaned to Aunt Emily’s opinion, but 


SUSAN MAKES A WISH 


5 


mother-like always began to make excuses. 
Susan had never been strong since that illness 
when she was five, she reminded them. 

Father said, “ Let her alone. Shell wake 
up one of these days.” 

In the end his advice prevailed, and now it 
seemed the waking up was beginning. Susan 
was aware of little pricking sensations in her 
conscience, not unlike those experienced when 
after a hand or foot has gone to sleep the blood 
begins to circulate again. 

Not Mother even could any longer find ex- 
cuse in her health, for three winters spent away 
from home in a more bracing climate had made 
her well and strong; but absence was respon- 
sible for the veil of strangeness that lay over 
all the old familiar scenes, which had aroused 
in full force her enemy, and caused her to run 
away at sight of her old playmates, Bessie 
May and Lily Bodne. 

It was too silly. Her Shyness had to own 
it, but, ‘‘ Oh, dear, I can’t help it,” she was say- 
ing to herself, when Father and the tea bell 
combined to change the subject. 

Father took from his pocket a package ad- 
dressed to Susan in the clear, rigid handwrit- 


6 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


ing of Aunt Henrietta. ‘‘ Something for you,” 
he said. 

A package is a package, even though you 
may stand in awe of the sender, and Susan 
carried it into the lighted dining-room where 
Joe was reading scraps from the evening paper 
to Mother and Silvy was bringing in the hot 
biscuit, and opened it in the presence of the 
family. 

“Pshaw!” Joe exclaimed as the red diary 
came into view. “I call that shabby of Aunt 
Henrietta, to excite my interest all for noth- 
ing.’’ 

“ Why, Joe, I think it is lovely,” cried 
Susan, fluttering the leaves. “ You have to 
pay as much as fifty cents for a book like this.” 

“ It is a very nice book, I am sure,” Mother 
observed politely, whife Joe shouted over the 
fifty cents, — “ but the biscuits are getting 
cold.” 

“ I don’t see what you are laughing at,” 
said Susan. “ Leather backs are expensive.” 

“ It is only that your brother has a soul 
above half-dollars, my dear,” explained Father. 
“ Aunt Henrietta said in her letter,” — taking 
it out of his breast pocket and handing 


SUSAN MAKES A WISH 7 

it across the table to Mother, “ that she 
thought every girl should keep a diary, so she 
was sending it. I am glad you like it so 
much.” 

“ It makes me think of all the things that 
will happen and all the thoughts I shall have,” 
Susan said, patting the red book and smiling 
to herself. 

‘‘Ah!” said Joe, “so it stands for an ad- 
venture into the unknown ! ” 

Susan pondered this as she ate her supper. 
It gave her an idea. She would name the 
diary as if it were a real book. When Silvy 
had carried away the tea things and placed the 
lamp with a snowy landscape on its shade, in 
the center of the round table, she got out her 
blotting pad from the tall secretary and pre- 
pared to begin. 

Father looked over his paper to say as 
Mother sat down with her crocheting, “ Well, 
this is like living once more.” 

Yes, it was nice to be at home again, Susan ^ 
thought, taking a match from the basket of 
the bronze fishwoman on the mantel, and 
lighting it, to burn the oil from her new pen. 
When Joe came in half an hour or so later. 


8 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


all spruced up, as Silvy expressed it, Susan 
had just finished those careful letters still to be 
seen on the first page of the diary: “ Thoughts 
and Adventures of Susan Norris Maxwell.” 

“ Hermits don’t have adventures,” he said, 
reading it over her shoulder. “ And do you 
think you will have thoughts enough to fill it? ” 

“ It seems incredible to you, no doubt,” 
Father remarked behind his paper. 

“ I’ll think something every day, won’t I? ” 
asked Susan. 

“Are you going out, Joe?” Mother in- 
quired. 

“ Yes, Mother Kitty, I am going to take the 
fair Julia to call on some friends from some- 
where.” 

“ Mrs. Boone ran in for a few minutes this 
morning,” continued Mrs. Maxwell. “ She 
says Julia is to marry a Chicago man.” 

“ Ah, me! can it be true? ” Joe cried, clutch- 
ing tragically at his heart, and Father re- 
marked he had heard it was a gentleman from 
Boston. 

“ Oh — and she said that Margaret Kennedy 
is to have a little school in the basement of St. 
Mark’s,” Mrs. Maxwell went on. “ She orig- 


SUSAN MAKES A WISH 


9 


inally intended it for children under ten, but 
Mrs. Boone is trying to induce her to take a 
few girls of Lily’s age. Henry wants to enter 
Lily at Mrs. Knight’s as a boarder, but Mrs. 
Boone is not willing. She wants Lily with 
her, and St. Mark’s would be so convenient. 
She wanted me to say I’d send Susan.” 

“ It might be the very thing,” Mr. Maxwell 
observed. Susan shook her head but said 
nothing. 

“ I am sorry for Margaret Kennedy,” Mrs. 
Maxwell said. “ She has faced all her trouble 
so bravely, that whatever one thinks of her 
father, one can feel nothing but admiration 
and sympathy for her.” 

“ In my opinion Mr. Kennedy was a victim 
of circumstance. If he had lived he would 
have succeeded in clearing his name,” her hus- 
band remarked. 

‘‘ I have no doubt Miss Kennedy will make 
a jolly good school-ma’am from what I have 
heard of her. Good-by, Mother Kitty,” and 
dropping a kiss on her cheek, Joe went off. 

Susan returned to her diary, and wrote : “ I 
made a wish on the new moon to-night. I 
wished for a bosom friend. Mother says it is 


10 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


superstitious to make wishes on the moon, but 
Father laughs and says it is because she never 
had a black mammy. I wonder if it will come 
true, and if it does, what she will be like? ” 

It was interesting to wonder what kind of 
a story those many white pages were destined 
to tell, she thought, as she stood the diary in a 
pigeon-hole of the secretary and put up the 
rolling top. It was a family desk, with book- 
shelves above and drawers below. Here 
Mother kept her cook-book and the household 
ledger, and wrote her weekly letter to Aunt 
Emily. Here were the church envelopes and 
the missionary mite box. The bottom drawer 
and the left-hand pigeon-hole belonged to 
Susan, and on the shelves above were some of 
her best book friends. 

The dining-room was pleasant, with its big 
bay window, where Mother’s plants flourished 
in the winter time, its old mahogany, and the 
tall mantel painted white like the rest of the 
woodwork, with a jardiniere of Canton China 
at either end, a pair of tall silver candlesticks 
and the bronze fishwoman, and beneath it the 
open fireplace and high brass fender. 

The town where Susan lived with all the 


SUSAN MAKES A WISH 


11 


other people whose names were to appear in 
the red diary that winter, lies a little below the 
imaginary line which divides the United States 
into North and South. Its old inhabitants 
and their children speak with a soft Southern 
intonation, and feel a fine scorn for persons 
who sound their r’s too distinctly and do not 
like hot bread. 

“ It is so natural,” the Brocade Lady said, 
“ to think our own way of doing things is the 
best.” 

The Brocade Lady rather liked to take 
people down, as when Joe Maxwell was one 
day expressing his pride in his state, she looked 
over her glasses at him and asked if he thought 
his state would ever have reason to be proud 
of him! 

The town, which had been for years in a 
comfortable doze, was beginning to wake and 
stretch itself at the time this story begins. 
Some people, who loved peace and quiet, and 
the good old times, were sorry, others swelled 
with pride and hastened to have natural gas 
put in their houses. The old-timers disliked 
natural gas ; they wanted fires you could poke 
and burn things in. Miss Julia Anderson had 


12 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


to carry some of her love letters over to the 
Brocade Lady’s sitting-room grate. She 
could not begin to keep all she received, and 
the ashman was already overburdened. Not of 
course with love letters, but other things. 

The great awakening which the newspapers 
talked about under large headlines, very nearly 
concerned the coming true of Susan’s wish, but 
this of course she did not suspect as she heard 
Father and Brother Joe discussing it at break- 
fast. 


CHAPTER II 

SATURDAY AFTERNOON 

A tiny cot in big, big lot, 

A cat for company, 

Flowers to weed, and books to read. 

And cinnamon buns for tea. 

Down in the old part of town where Susan 
lived, there were certain infallible signs by 
which you could tell Saturday afternoon. 
The brick walks appeared newly scrubbed 
and painted ; all the steps and curbing 
on the square gleamed immaculate after a 
bath of stone dust, and here and there 
a maid might be seen giving a final polish to 
bell handles and door knobs. Miss Julia An- 
derson would be going somewhere, to the 
matinee, or to walk, accompanied by a young 
man or two, and children of dancing-school 
age would be passing, the little girls very much 
curled and happily swinging their slipper bags, 
the boys lagging behind, unwilling victims. 
Later, Browinski’s wagon would be seen de- 
livering charlotte russe, or some other dessert 

13 


14 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


for to-morrow’s dinner, for in these days it 
was the very good custom not to have such 
things sent in on Sunday. 

All this and more Susan saw from the cor- 
ner of the porch where she had settled herself 
with Wynkyns the black cat and the first 
volume of “ The Daisy Chain.” It was a per- 
fect afternoon and everybody was off for a 
good time, so it seemed, but Susan herself. 

Mrs. Boone’s carriage passed with Bessie 
and Lily in it, and a vacant seat beside the 
driver which might have been hers if she had 
not been so foolish and offish yesterday. 
While she was thinking about this and wonder- 
ing where they were going, Sophy Idelle 
Browinski came up the street. She was the 
granddaughter of the confectioner, and an old 
playmate. She was tall and blonde with a 
Roman tendency to her nose, and to-day she 
was all a flutter of pink, frills. Susan was 
moved to make overtures, and went down to 
the gate. 

Sophy Idelle was gracious but hadn’t time 
to stop. She was on her way to a tea. So 
Susan walked slowly back to her corner and 
watched Miss Julia set out for the tennis court 


SATURDAY AFTERNOON 


15 


accompanied by Joe and Mr. Reynor the poet. 
J oe seemed in high spirits but the poet looked 
droopy, perhaps because he wanted Miss Julia 
all to himself. Certainly she tried to be im- 
partial with her smiles, turning now this way 
and now that, in a manner which must have 
been fatiguing, one would think. As they 
passed she waved her hand airily to Susan. 

And now who should come in the gate but 
the Brocade Lady, carrying a covered dish. 
Susan kept very still, hoping to escape notice, 
but the Brocade Lady walked straight towards 
her corner, with, “ Is that Susan? How do 
you do ? ” 

Susan spilled Wynkyns out of her lap and 
‘‘ The Daisy Chain ’’ on top of him and was 
dreadfully embarrassed, as she responded. 

The Brocade Lady was very odd. She wore 
full skirts gathered into an infant waist, a style 
she had adopted years before and still held to, 
seeing no reason for discarding her handsome 
and durable gowns because other people wore 
gores and draperies. They were not all of 
brocade, but some of them were, and the quaint 
title which had been bestowed upon her, in 
consequence, no one knew exactly when or 


16 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


how, suited her perfectly and did not disturb 
her in the least. 

The Brocade Lady had a cluster of gray 
curls on each temple, and her eyes were bright 
and searching. Susan was a little afraid of 
them and of her blunt way of saying what 
she thought, regardless of sensitive feelings. 
She had brought over some cream cheese, she 
said. She had seen Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell 
taking the car at the corner, and she wanted 
to know why Susan was all alone? 

It seemed a foolish question, and Susan re- 
plied, “ I don’t know,” a favorite phrase of 
hers, and then carried the cheese in to Silvy. 

It was unfortunate that Robin Bright 
should choose this moment to make a call. 
When Susan returned he was sitting on the 
edge of the porch, swinging his legs and talk- 
ing to the Brocade Lady. Robin, who was the 
five-year-old son of Mr. Bright, the rector of 
St. Mark’s, was petted by everybody, partly 
because he had no mother, and also because he 
was a winning, friendly little soul, not easily 
resisted. He was an independent spirit, and 
roamed the neighborhood with perfect free- 
dom. He and his father had come from the 


SATURDAY AFTERNOON 17 

East on the same train with Susan and her 
mother the other day, and Robin had already 
made them several visits. 

“Hi, Susan!” he called, “Bessie’s mad at 
you. She says you needn’t ever speak to her, 
if you don’t want to.” 

Susan’s face grew red, and the Brocade 
Lady wanted to know what the trouble was. 
She ought to have seen that it wasn’t any of 
her business. Susan stammered dreadfully 
over her explanation. Bessie was touchy, she 
said. 

“ Susan went in the house and wouldn’t 
speak to her,” Robin volunteered, kicking his 
heels cheerfully. 

“ But I didn’t mean — I didn’t know she saw 
me,” said Susan. 

The Brocade Lady evidently understood; 
Susan’s shyness was no secret. “ When I was 
your age I was diffident just as you are,” she 
said, “ and it spoiled many a pleasant time for 
me, until one day a friend told me I was self- 
ish. That set me to thinking, and this is what 
I discovered. The best thing you can be in 
this world is a friend, and the next best thing 
to being a friend is having friends, and the 


18 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


price of friends is friendliness. Do you see? 
This is all my sermon. If you don’t believe 
you are selfish, look in the dictionary. Good- 
by,” and the Brocade Lady rustled away. 

Robin went around the house to see Silvy, 
who was cleaning silver on the back porch, and 
Susan was left alone with her indignation. 
Selfish! she knew she wasn’t selfish. She 
picked up “ The Daisy Chain,” and Wynkyns 
came and jumped into her lap again. His 
golden gaze seemed to ask: “ Why mind her? 
Be selfish and unsociable if you want to. I 
am.” 

“ It must be so comfortable to be a cat,” 
sighed Susan. 

It was perhaps an hour later that she took, 
out her diary and sitting down at the desk 
made the following entry: “ Some day I 
mean to have a little house in the middle of a 
big garden, and a Persian cat and a French 
poodle, and lots of story books, and live all 
by myself. Then I won’t care if people don’t 
like me. I suppose I’ll never have any adven- 
tures, because you can’t if you stay by your- 
self, so this book has a wrong name.” 

As she pressed her blotter on the page she 


SATURDAY AFTERNOON 


19 


chanced to glance up at the fish woman, who 
smiled at her cynically. “You needn’t look 
at me in that way! ” cried Susan. “ If I am, 
I can’t help it.” 

The fish woman might have asked, “ Am 
what? ” hut she didn’t, she only kept on smil- 
ing, and then Susan saw the silver quarter at 
her feet, and remembered that Mother had put 
it there for the sponge cakes which she had 
forgotten to order at Browinski’s. Well, here 
was something to do, anyway. 

Putting on her hat at the hall glass, she felt 
better. Having decided that she could not 
pay the price of friendship and should never 
have any adventures to record in the red diary, 
the decks were cleared, so to speak. At the 
gate she paused a second to consider which way 
to go, and then walked on, straight into an 
adventure. 


CHAPTER III 


HOLLIDAY 

In proverb old, we’re often told, 

It is the unexpected 

Which comes to pass, when we, alas! 

Have otherwise elected. 

The pleasantest way to Browinski’s led by 
St. Mark’s, where Miss Kennedy was to have 
her little school, next to which was the Brocade 
Lady’s cottage. On the corner opposite the 
church was the Seymours’, a very grand man- 
sion with a sweeping flight of marble steps and 
a walled garden. The Seymours were per- 
haps the most exclusive people in town, and 
whatever else this did for them, it undoubtedly 
made them more interesting to outsiders. Dis- 
tance lends enchantment, and the Seymours 
were very distant. To-day the storm doors 
were closed and the shades down; the family 
had not returned to town. In the glimpses 
one had of it, the garden looked cool and green. 
It seemed a pity there was no one about to en- 
joy it. 


HOLLIDAY 


21 


In this part of town which had grown up 
without any planning, or building restrictions, 
big and little houses dwelt peaceably together, 
beneath the shade of tall maples and syca- 
mores, and the atmosphere was that of a village 
rather than a large and growing city. Elec- 
tric lights were swinging on the corners, but so 
recently had they come into use that the old 
lamp-posts were still to be seen here and there, 
and there were persons who sighed as they re- 
membered that they would never any more see 
the lamp-lighter going his rounds with his 
ladder under his arm. 

Susan remembered afterwards that there 
was an express wagon drawn by a big gray 
horse standing in front of the rectory, while 
the driver waited at the door, and also that a 
negro boy passed her, riding one horse and lead- 
ing another, but she paid no attention to these 
facts at the time. She was thinking of some- 
thing else. 

Not far beyond the Seymours’ on the same 
street was another house which interested her 
even more. It too was a stately mansion, with 
a garden in which there were a fountain and 
marble statues, representing the seasons. At 


22 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

present, however, it was not well kept and 
behind its high fence of elaborate ironwork it 
had a stern and fortress-like look. A curving 
flight of stone steps at one side led up to a 
porch from which four lofty pillars rose to 
support the projecting roof. Beneath this 
porch was the basement entrance, with barred 
windows on either side. 

There is something which lends even more 
enchantment than distance, and this is mys- 
tery, and around this house for some years, 
along with the thickening ivy and untrimmed 
shrubbery, strange stories had been growing 
up, until it was now very generally spoken of 
as the haunted house. These stories had prob- 
ably originated with the colored servants in the 
neighborhood. Susan had heard Silvy and 
Mammy Ria discussing them, but when she 
began to ask questions Silvy said, shaking her 
head positively, “No, Miss Susan, I ain’t 
goin’ tell you nothin’ ’t all about it. Miss 
Kitty done tole me not to.” 

“ Nonsense, Silvy, that was when I was little. 
Mother doesn’t care now. But Mammy will 
tell me, won’t you. Mammy? ” Susan begged 


HOLLIDAY 


in the wheedling tone Mammy was never 
known to resist. 

“ Well, I reckon so, sometime. Honey, but 
I’s got to travel on now,” and she added, as 
she picked up her basket, ‘‘ You mind what I 
tells you, Silvy. Don’t you go bangin’ round 
Christmas Tree House in de night time. Hear 
me? And don’t talk to me ’bout dey ain’t no 
ghosts;” 

‘‘ Christmas Tree House,” a strangely cheer- 
ful name for a haunted house. Why did they 
call it that? Susan wondered, and was won- 
dering now as she walked slowly by. 

She had turned to look back at it, when sud- 
denly with a tremendous clanging the wagon 
of the fire chief whirled by, turned the corner, 
and was gone. As Susan paused, the big 
horse belonging to the express wagon, mad with 
fright, came galloping towards her, dashing the 
wagon against a telegraph pole, partly de- 
molishing it and sending its contents far and 
wide. The nearest gate was that of the 
haunted house, but better ghosts, even if you 
believe in them, than frantic horses. As she 
ran to it, Susan saw a girl standing as if 
paralyzed with fright in the middle of the walk 


24 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


right in the path of the first runaway, while 
from the other direction came the horse the boy 
had been leading and which had broken loose. 
Quick as a flash Susan ran to her, grasped her 
arm and drew her to the gate. The next mo- 
ment the terrified animal, dragging what was 
left of the express wagon, swept over the very 
spot where she had stood. 

“ My land, little Missy! but that was a close 
shave ! ” exclaimed an old colored man who had 
found the same refuge. 

The two girls stood side by side in breathless 
silence for a few minutes. The shouting men 
and boys who had sprung from somewhere 
like magic, and the plunging horses, passed 
swiftly from sight and hearing, the old darkey 
limped away in their wake, and all was quiet 
again. Then Susan’s companion spoke, sit- 
ting down on the bottom step of the flight that 
curved up to the pillared porch. 

“ I should just have stood there and let them 
run over me if it had not been for you,” she 
said, lifting to Susan a lovely, glowing face. 
Her hair was a warm gold, her eyes a dancing 
hazel beneath dark lashes. “ I was so 
frightened,” she added. 


HOLLIDAY 


25 


'' I was frightened, too,” Susan said. “ And 
you stood there like a block — ” 

“ Head,” put in the girl, quickly. 

“ Of stone I was going to say,” cried Susan, 
aghast. 

Her companion motioned to the step be- 
side her. “ Anyway, you saved my life,” she 
said, “ and I am very much obliged to you.” 

“ You are perfectly welcome,” Susan replied, 
accepting the seat and feeling not quite equal 
to the occasion. “ I am glad I came by just 
then.” 

“ So am I; and as you saved my life I think 
we ought to be friends, don’t you? My name 
is Holliday Hey wood. What is yours? ” 

What a joyous name it sounded! Thinking 
of it, Susan forgot to tell her own till Holliday 
repeated her question. 

“ Mine? ” she said. ‘‘ Well, if you’re a Holi- 
day I guess I am an Everyday. Everyday 
Susan Maxwell.” For some strange reason 
Susan had forgotten her shyness. 

Holliday impulsively put her arm around 
her. “Oh, I am going tojike you! I love 
you already, because you saved my life and be- 
cause you are nice and funny.” 


26 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Susan slipped her hand into Holliday’s and 
the blue eyes met the hazel straight and true. 
Susan thought of the red diary and the wish 
written there, and never for an instant doubted 
that it had come true. Perhaps she would 
have told Holliday about it then and there if 
a strange interruption had not occurred. 

A rockaway driven by a grizzled old negro 
drew up at the curb, and a tall, rather impos- 
ing woman got out and approached the gate. 
She walked with the aid of a long staff, and 
glanced this way and that in a queer, restless 
way. When she caught sight of the girls, who 
had risen, she exclaimed, “ What are you 
doing here, I should like to know? Go away 
at once. Don’t you know they say this house 
is haunted? ” 

Susan and Holliday didn’t wait for a second 
bidding. Hand in hand they flew down the 
street, not pausing till they came within view 
of Browinski’s cheerful windows. 

.“Did you ever?” cried Holliday, breath- 
lessly. 

“No, I never,” Susan replied, laughing. 
“ It must have been Mrs. Carrol, the old lady 
who lives there,” she added. 


HOLLIDAY 

‘'And is the house really haunted?” asked 
Holhday. 

Susan hesitated. “ I don’t suppose it is 
really j but there is something queer about it. 
Mammy Ria says it is.” 

“ This has been the most romantic and inter- 
esting afternoon, hasn’t it? Two adven- 
tures ! ” exclaimed Holliday, and her bright 
eyes seemed to ask, “ What next? ” 

Susan remembered her sponge cakes. “ I 
have to go to Browinski’s,” she said, and as her 
companion seemed to have no other thought 
than to accompany her, they crossed the street 
together. 

Browinski’s was an alluring place. The 
windows presented a varied display of good 
things, and inside the same story was con- 
tinued on a more elaborate scale. As a little 
child Susan had the impression that the marble 
halls referred to in “I dreamed that I 
dwelt — ” were Browinski’s. The floor with 
its big squares of black and white, the counters 
and glittering showcases, made it a sort of 
wonderland to her, and it was with a touch 
of awe that she saw Sophy Idelle making her- 
self at home amid all this splendor, even to 


28 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


invading the lace-veiled precincts of the ice- 
cream parlor. Although since then her ideas 
had broadened, she still felt the charm of 
Browinski’s. 

While the cakes were being put up, Holli- 
day took out a little purse of blue leather with 
her monogram in silver on it, and bought 
twenty-five cents’ worth of chocolate caramels. 
This seemed to Susan a good deal to spend at 
one time on candy, and she wondered if Holli- 
day was rich. Everything about her was 
dainty and fine, from the tips of her bronze 
toes to the rim of her leghorn hat. 

When Miss Carry handed the caramels 
across the counter, Holliday held the package 
out to Susan. “ You must take them,” she 
said. “ I bought them for you. I shall be 
offended if you don’t. You saved my life, 
you know.” There was a bit of a twinkle in 
her eyes, but she did not smile as she put her 
hands behind her, refusing to take it back. 

“Why, there’s my father!” she exclaimed 
the next moment, and Susan, looking towards 
the door, saw a victoria just then stopping at 
the curb, in which a lady and a gentleman were 
seated. 


HOLLIDAY 


29 


“ I told papa I’d be on the corner by the 
church, and our adventure made me forget. 
I must go. Good-by. Remember we are 
going to be friends. And I want you to have 
this.” Pressing something into Susan’s hand, 
Holliday was off like a rocket, and before 
Susan had time to take a deep breath the vic- 
toria was driving away with her. 

The family were on the porch when she 
reached home. 

“ Hello! ” called Joe. “ Why, you look- 
waked up.” 

Susan sat down beside him on the swinging 
seat. “ I have seen the loveliest girl in the 
world,” she announced. “ I saved her life,' — 
at least, I guess I did.” She held out the bag 
to Joe. 

“ Is she in here? ” Joe asked, eying the bag 
in pretended doubt. ‘‘ Ah, excuse me, — 
caramels!” taking several. ‘‘Ho I under- 
stand that you are in doubt whether this 
loveliest girl is alive or not? ” 

“Don’t be so silly, Joe. Yes, Mother, she 
really is. I wish you could see her,” and 
Susan went on to relate the adventure. Father 
looked over his paper and listened, too. 


so 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ It was very brave of you, dearie,” Mother 
cried. “ You might have been killed yourself. 
It makes me shudder.” 

“ Susan Hermione is living up to her name. 
She is a heroine,” said Joe. 

“No, I am not. I didn’t think at all till 
afterwards. Then I was frightened,” Susan 
replied. “ And she gave me the caramels and 
this,” she added, holding up a ring with a red 
stone in it. 

“ The caramels are genuine,” said Joe, “ but 
this probably came out of a prize package of 
popcorn.” 

Father held out his hand. “ Let me have 
it.” He scrutinized it carefully, holding it up 
to the light, and finally taking from his pocket 
a magnifying glass. “ It is a pretty old-fash- 
ioned setting,” he remarked presently, “ and 
if I am not mistaken this is a very fine ruby.” 

Joe whistled. “ Well, Your Shyness, I 
congratulate you.” 

“ But, Susan, you can’t keep it,” cried 
Mother. “ You must return it at once.” 

Then it transpired that Susan had not the 
least idea in the world where her new friend 
was to be found. “You see, Mother, it all 


HOLLIDAY 


31 


happened so quickly we hadn’t time to say 
much. And it is funny, but I felt as if I had 
known her always. Then — oh, I forgot to tell 
you about the haunted house.” 

‘‘ I wouldn’t call it the haunted house, dear,” 
Mother said when the second adventure had 
been related. “We don’t believe in ghosts or 
anything so silly.” 

“ There is something queer about the place. 
Mother Kitty,” Joe said. “ Did you ever hear 
about the spectral Christmas tree? The 
darkeys call it Christmas Tree House.” 

“ Ko, I don’t care for such foolish stories,” 
Mrs. Maxwell answered, untying her bonnet 
strings. “ I think supper must be ready.” 

“ Tell me about it, Joe,” Susan begged — ^ 
“ why do they call it that? ” 

“ Not now. Mother Kitty doesn’t approve 
of ghost stories, and there’s the bell. You get 
mammy to tell you. She has seen the tree.” 


CHAPTER IV 


PLANS 

You tell to me, and I to you, 

Great things we fondly hope to do 
Some day. 

And of these plans so fair to view, 

Some come to pass, but most fall through. 

Some way. 

Over their soda water at Browinski’s Susan 
and Joe were having a confidential chat. 

“ You see,” Joe said, “ I have been costing 
a lot of money all these years at college, and 
I think it is time I was making a little. That 
is why I am going into the bank instead of to 
the Law School, but I’ll tell you something if 
you will keep it dark. I am going to read law 
at night, and surprise Father one of these 
days.” 

“ Are you really, Joe? But won’t it be very 
hard after working all day? ” asked Susan. 

“ Oh, of course it will, rather, but I have 
made up my mind to buckle down this winter. 
Your Shyness, and be a credit to the family.” 

There was not the least doubt of him in 

32 


PLANS 


Susan’s blue eyes. “ Joe, that will be splen- 
did,” she exclaimed, and they clinked their 
glasses and drank to the success of his plans! 

Joe had hosts of friends. Everybody liked 
him and was ready to oblige him, so that he 
had easily secured a place for which there were 
a dozen other applicants. His father had 
seemed both pleased and doubtful. It would 
be all right in case Joe did not allow his love 
of pleasure to interfere with his work, he 
said. 

Privately Susan thought F ather a little hard 
on Joe, who was, in her opinion, the best 
brother in the world. Joe sometimes said that 
half a good-for-nothing brother was better 
than a whole one, but Susan, who didn’t like to 
be reminded that he was a half brother, re- 
sented this. 

Joe’s mother had died when he was a baby 
and for seven or eight years he had been 
spoiled by an indulgent grandmother before 
he fell into the hands of Mother Kitt)^, as he 
called her. Perhaps she had continued the 
spoiling. She was only a dozen years older 
than he, and there were ten years between him 
and Susan. 


34 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Several days had passed since that eventful 
Saturday afternoon, and without a word or 
glimpse of her new friend. As she finished 
her soda water Susan thought how delightful 
it would be if Holliday should come walking in 
at the door from which she had disappeared so 
suddenly. Nothing of the kind happened, 
however. Except foir the ruby ring locked 
away in Mother’s jewel box, there was nothing 
to refute Joe’s opinion, borrowed from Betsy 
Prig, that there was no sich a person. Her 
adventure had come to seem almost like a 
dream. 

Holliday Heywood was such a sky-rockety 
name, Joe declared, that he thought Susan 
must have made it up. 

“It is strange she did not tell you where 
she lived,” Mother had said at least a dozen 
times. 

“ But I didn’t tell her where I lived,” was 
Susan’s answer. 

“ Then you were a pair of geese; that’s all.” 

Father searched the directory, but there 
were no Heywoods who answered the require- 
ments. “ They are probably new people,” he 
said. “ I used to know everybody worth 


PLANS 


35 


knowing in town, but times have changed.” 

Joe suggested advertising, and proceeded to 
invent all sorts of absurd “ Wanteds.” — To 
find the loveliest girl in the world, with brown 
— no, golden hair, and gray^ — no, brown eyes,” 
which was the way Susan’s description ran, 
he insisted. 

“ Never mind, your friend will reappear 
sometime,” Father said reassuringly. 

Mother added, “ I trust she will, to get her 
ring. But Susan must remember that we 
know nothing in the world about her. You 
cannot jump into friendship without any pre- 
vious acquaintance.” 

‘‘ You must ‘ look before you ere you 
leap,’ ” Joe quoted. “ But Susan didn’t 
jump, she just fell in,” he added. 

Susan nodded. “ And oh. Mother, if you 
could only see her you’d understand,” she 
cried. 

“ Mother Kitty is from Philadelphia,” Joe 
explained. ‘‘ She can’t help being exclusive.” 
He loved to tease Mother about being a Phila- 
delphian. 

To return to Browinski’s : ‘‘ And now if you 
have finished, we will go and look at law 


36 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


books,” Joe said. ‘‘ That is, unless you prefer 
to stay and dream awhile.” 

Susan waked up from her brown study over 
Holliday, and laughed. “ Are you going to 
try at Self and Son’s? ” she asked, slipping off 
the stool. 

“ Now you are a thrifty lass, Susan Her- 
mione. I hadn’t thought of it, but perhaps we 
might as well, as I am starting in to be eco- 
nomical. On the strength of it, what do you 
say to sampling those chocolates? ” 

This was just like Joe. Susan tried to 
point out that the Selfs might not have what 
he wanted, but she spoke only half-heartedly, 
for she was fond of chocolates, too. 

Self and Son’s was a second-hand book shop, 
and in Susan’s opinion one of the interesting 
spots of the neighborhood. From the looks 
of the place it might have been fourth or fifth 
hand at least, so decrepit and dingy was it. 
The floor was a step down from the street, and 
when you entered a clanging bell brought 
Himself or Herself, as Joe called them, from 
somewhere in the dim background, and aroused 
a sleepy parrot in his cage near the dusty win- 
dow. The air was full of a must}^ odor that 


PLANS 


37 


made you cough, and was perhaps responsible 
for the extreme hoarseness of Polly’s croak. 
Himself was usually attired in a flapping 
dressing gown with gray mits on his rheumatic 
hands, and his hooked nose and glassy eyes 
made him look like a near relative of the par- 
rot, Susan thought. She was half afraid of 
him and preferred Herself, a mere scrap of a 
person, done up in a woolen fascinator, — for 
she also was rheumatic, — who called you dearie 
or honey and thanked you kindly for your pur- 
chase if you made one. Except in the rusty 
sign there was no evidence of “ Son.” 

Besides old books, the Selfs dealt in pens, 
pencils, tablets, and copy books and were much 
patronized by the children, more on account of 
old Look-in-a-Book, as they called the parrot, 
than the excellence of their wares. He was a 
gray African parrot, and his scarlet tail 
feathers were much coveted for dolls’ hats. 

To-day, the weather being balmy as June, 
Himself, clad in an ancient frock coat, sat in a 
chair outside the door when Susan and Joe 
approached. “Law books? Yes, sir. I’ll 
show you what I have. Here lately we’ve got 
in quite a stock. There’s a right smart de- 


38 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

mand for law books.” Mr. Self hobbled be- 
fore them into the shop, where his wife was 
making matters worse with a feather duster. 

Susan stopped at the parrot’s cage, but the 
bird eyed her sullenly and would not respond 
to her coaxing ‘‘ Pretty Polly ! nice Polly ! ” 

The rows and rows of shabby books fasci- 
nated her. She liked to lift their worn covers 
and read the title-page, and sometimes the 
name of the former owner, and as Polly 
proved obdurate, she turned to these for 
amusement. The first book she peeped into 
was, “ Lives of the Lord Chancellors,” and on 
the fly leaf was written “ W. H. Kennedy.” 
She paused to think where she had heard this 
name recently. 

“Aren’t you going to school, dearie? 
Don’t you want some tablets and pencils?” 
asked Mrs. Self. “ We’ve got a nice stock.” 

Susan replied that she didn’t need any, but 
the mention of school reminded her where she 
had heard the name Kennedy, and just then 
she heard Himself saying to Joe, “ Yes, sir, 
we got quite a lot from the Kennedy library. 
The best of the sets was sold at auction, but 
we got a number.” 


PLANS 


39 


‘‘ Look in a book, look in a book,” screamed 
the parrot, suddenly thinking better of his 
silence. Then he turned himself upside down 
and hanging from the top of his cage winked 
at Susan, adding, ‘‘ You’ll find it.” These 
were the only words except “ Oh, pshaw! ” that 
he was ever heard to utter. 

As they left the shop followed by a rapid 
fire of entreaties to look in a book, Susan 
asked, “ Joe, why did Mr. Kennedy have to 
sell his books? ” 

“ Mr. Kennedy is dead. He didn’t sell 
them. They had to be sold.” 

“ Wasn’t he Miss Kennedy’s father? I 
wonder why she didn’t keep them? ” 

“ Well, you see Mr. Kennedy lost all his 
money and some other people’s too, and every- 
thing had to be sold to satisfy his creditors.” 

“Do you know Miss Kennedy, Joe?” 
Susan inquired. 

“ No, that is I haven’t seen her for years 
and years, but I think I once went to school 
with her, when I was a little shaver. At Miss 
Polly King’s. They called her Peggy, then.” 

“Did you really, Joe?” Susan cried. 

Then she is rather a young lady?” 


40 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


She was when I knew her. She wore a; 
pink sunbonnet if I am not mistaken.” 

Joe left Susan at the corner, remembering 
something he wanted down town, and she 
walked on alone thinking of Miss Kennedy in 
the new light so unexpectedly cast upon her. 
The fact that she had worn a pink sunbonnet 
and been called Peggy made her less alarming, 
less like Miss Alma Bell, to whom Susan had 
once gone to school for a few weeks. Miss 
Alma was now Sophy Idelle’s teacher in the 
public school. She wore spectacles and looked 
as if the cat had licked her, Silvy said. Susan’s 
experience with teachers was very small, but 
she had an absurd fear of them. Miss Ken- 
nedy couldn’t be a cut-and-dried teacher like 
Miss Alma, however, this was certain. 

Susan had a way of becoming engrossed in 
her thoughts. With her eyes on the pavement 
she was deciding that it wasn’t possible Miss 
Alma had ever worn a pink sunbonnet, when 
she was startled by a voice close by saying, 
“ I beg your pardon, but can you tell me 
where Mrs. Maxwell lives? ” 

Voices count for a great deal, and this was 
a particularly sweet one. Before she could 


PLANS 


41 


lift her eyes Susan knew it belonged to a lady, 
t — a real one. And a very charming one, the 
face she looked into seemed to assure her, the 
next moment. Her Shyness grew very rosy, 
as she always did when spoken to by a stranger, 
but she managed to say that she was Susan 
Maxwell and lived a few doors farther on. 

The lady, who was slight and fair and 
dressed in black, held out her hand with an 
entrancing smile, — Susan felt it so. “ Oh, 
are you? I am Miss Kennedy, and I am on 
my way to ask your mother to let me have you 
in my class.’’ 

Peggy and the pink sunbonnet were some- 
how in that smile; or something at any rate 
which in a mysterious way came at once in 
touch with the real Susan, back of the shyness 
and stiffness. What was said in the few steps 
that lay between them and the gate, she could 
not have told. She only knew Miss Margaret 
was lovely, and she was glad she was going to 
school to her. 

She flew upstairs in a gale of happiness to 
tell Mother. “ She is the darlingest person 
you ever saw, not a bit like a teacher!” she 
exclaimed. 


42 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Mother remarked as she quietly laid aside 
her sewing, that Susan’s experience with 
teachers was hardly large enough to warrant 
the prejudice she had against them. When 
Mother said things like this Joe called it “ put- 
ting on her Philadelphia manners.” As if 
good manners were not the same the country 
over, Mrs. Maxwell would retort. 

Naturally enough, Miss Kennedy was the 
chief topic of conversation at the supper table. 
Susan wished to know how Mr. Kennedy hap- 
pened to lose other people’s money as well as 
his own. 

“ I don’t think he did,” Mr. Maxwell an- 
swered. 

“ How about the Carrol estate? ” asked his 
wife. 

“ Well, there is only Mrs. Carrol’s word 
against his.” Then in response to Susan’s 
questioning eyes, Mr. Maxwell added, “ You 
see Mr. Kennedy acted as trustee for Mrs. 
Carrol after her husband’s death, and she 
claims now that certain bonds, valued at some- 
thing like twenty thousand dollars, were unac- 
counted for. Mr. Kennedy said that the bonds 
had been returned to her and that he had her 


PLANS 


43 


receipt for them. The receipt, however, could 
not be found at the time, nor has it come to 
light since his death, which occurred soon after 
the trouble.” 

“ And the bonds are still missing, aren’t 
they? ” asked Joe. 

“ I believe so, but I fully expect them to 
turn up one of these days, — or the receipt. 
Mr. Kennedy was the soul of honor, and Mrs. 
Carrol is, I am inclined to think, hardly re- 
sponsible.” 

“ Mrs. Boone says Margaret’s firm hope is 
that she may be able to clear her father’s 
name,” said Mrs. Maxwell. ‘‘ I trust she 
may, poor girl.” 

“ Is it the Mrs. Carrol who lives in Christ- 
mas Tree House?” inquired Susan. ‘'Well, 
I think she is rather crazy, and I don’t believe 
for a minute Miss Margaret’s father took her 
bonds.” 

“ Much you know about it,” said Mother, 
laughing at her positive tone. 

That night Susan wrote in her diary: “ Miss 
Margaret Kennedy is lovely. I am going to 
school to her.” Then she added, “ I haven’t 
found Holliday yet. I wonder if I ever 


44 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


shall?” Later on she fell into verse and 
wrote : — 


** Of all the girls I ever met 
She was the most beguiling, 

Alas ! when shall I see her face 
All radiant and smiling? 

She felt rather proud of this, particularly “ be- 
guiling,” a word she had never used before. 


CHAPTER V 


MISS Margaret's school 

The clock tells the quarter, 

“ Click ” goes the gate ; 

School begins in our town 
At half-past eight. 

Sophy Idelle Beowinski declared it 
couldn’t be much of a school, anyhow, and in 
point of numbers it was not ; but when you came 
to quahty, that was another matter. Sophy 
Idelle didn’t know everything. Her experience 
was limited to what Susan called a cut-and- 
dried teacher and a square room with black- 
boards and maps. 

Miss Margaret was a charmer and simply 
bewitched her pupils into liking to study, Joe 
Maxwell said. This was partly true and 
partly nonsense. She was really a born 
teacher, full of vivid interest in all sorts of 
things,^— not only books, and possessed the gift 
of inspiring others with a like interest, and she 
was charming. 

Joe took great pains to meet Miss Kennedy, 

45 


46 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


and then on the score of those sunbonnet days 
to establish himself on the footing of an old 
friend. It was not easy, for since her trouble 
Margaret had held proudly aloof ; but Joe was 
very persistent, when he put his mind upon 
anything, and had a friendly way of his own 
not easy to withstand. 

As to school-rooms. Miss Kennedy’s was the 
queerest imaginable. It was a basement room, 
long and low, with many queer angles, running 
across the church where the transepts widened 
it. At one end a glass door and two deep 
windows opened upon the grassy churchyard. 
You went down a step or two when you en- 
tered, and the broad window sills were almost 
on a level with the grass outside. The effect 
of this when one sat in the window was inde- 
scribably pleasant. It was like being both 
outside and in, at the same time. 

The room stretched away into twilight at 
the other end, where the windows looked out 
upon the rectory walls, so near you could touch 
them. Here the janitor stored chairs and 
benches not in use, and unwittingly provided 
an excellent place for “ I spy.” 

In the inside wall were two swinging doors 


MISS MARGARET’S SCHOOL 


47 


of green leather through which an explorer 
who was not careful was liable to be suddenly 
precipitated down four or five carpeted steps 
into the Sunday School room; but the strang- 
est thing of all was the large flat stone in the 
floor, near the middle, where the shadows be- 
gan. A wooden rail protected the stone, on 
which was inscribed; 

In Memory of Willxam Woodson 
For Twenty Years Rector of St. Mark's 
“ A Wise Man Who Built his House upon a Rock ” 


The school-room proper was in the sunny 
front end. Here Miss Kennedy had placed a 
small case of books, and hung some pictures 
on the plain white walls. A Persian-looking 
cover on her table, and a few plants, gave a 
touch of color. The floor had only strips of 
cocoa matting on it, but when the sunshine lay 
there in golden patches, no need was felt for 
anything better. The desks, which were of a 
simple movable kind, were grouped about as 
seemed convenient. 

But Susan as yet had not made the acquaint- 
ance of this queer school-room, and not even 


48 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


the delightful discovery in regard to Miss 
Margaret could keep her from dreading that 
first day. 

“ Now, Susan Hermione, don’t be a goose. 
Suppose you were going to the bank to be 
bossed by Colonel Brand, instead of to a nice 
little school with Miss Kennedy at the head of 
it,” said Joe, that Monday morning. 

It was impossible for Susan to believe that 
Joe’s ordeal was anything like so trying as her 
own, as he went off whistling gayly. “ Oh, 
Wynk,” she said, her cheek pressed against his 
glossy side, “ I wish I were a cat. I hear 
your heart beating. Is it beating with sym- 
pathy for me? ” 

Wynkyns opened his mouth in a very wide 
yawn, displaying a fine set of teeth and a pink 
tongue, then he deliberately turned his back 
and began to wash his white tie with his ears 
flattened down in an absurd way. 

“Well, you do look silly!” Susan ex- 
claimed. “ And you needn’t be so superior. 
You wouldn’t like it if you had to go to a 
perfectly strange school where you know only 
two girls, and one of them is mad at you and 
the other is her intimate friend.” 


MISS MARGARET’S SCHOOL 


49 


Susan had been honestly trying not to be a 
goose, and more than anything else the thought 
of Holliday influenced her. The definition of 
“ selfish ” in the dictionary was: ‘‘ Chiefly or 
wholly regarding self.” She had looked it up, 
secretly hoping to be able to contradict the 
Brocade Lady, but she couldn’t help seeing 
that the reason she had not been shy with 
Holliday was because she had not thought 
about herself. She had done a friendly act 
without thinking about it, and had won a 
friend, — that is, if she ever saw her again. 

As a first step in ignoring her troublesome 
self, Susan went over to explain to Bessie that 
she had not meant to be rude. This required 
some courage, for the Manns were a tremen- 
dous family, of all ages, sizes and varieties, from 
Grandfather down to the baby, and somebody 
was sure to be on the porch to watch her come 
up the walk; but she went, only to find that 
Bessie was spending several days in the coun- 
try with Lily Boone. ‘‘ Having a lovely time,” 
Miss Geraldine said. Susan went home with 
nothing hut a clear conscience to show for it, 
but that was a great deal. 

It was a delicious October morning when 


50 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Susan set out for school. Mother was going 
to market and would go with her as far as the 
gate. When they came within sight of St. 
Mark’s, Susan began to lag a little. 

“ I think I see Lily,” Mrs. Maxwell said, 
‘‘and isn’t that Bessie with plaid ribbons? — 
and there is Bobin Bright.” 

They stood in a group at the gate, and be- 
yond Lily another head was visible. Perhaps 
it might be Miss Arthur’s niece. Mother was 
suggesting, when the gate swung open and a 
radiant butterfly of a girl flew to meet them. 

“ Oh, Everyday Susan,” she cried, “ I am 
so glad to see you. I knew you were coming. 
Aren’t you surprised? ” 

Susan’s delight couldn’t And words in which 
to express itself. “ Mother, this is Holliday,” 
she said, holding fast the hand of her friend, as 
if she feared she might vanish again. 

“ So I guessed,” Mrs. Maxwell answered, 
smiling, and Holliday shook hands, making a 
quaint little backward courtesy. 

“ Susan and I are going to be friends al- 
ways, Mrs. Maxwell, because she saved my 
life,” she explained. 

Lily and Bessie came to meet them, wonder- 


MISS MARGARET’S SCHOOL 


51 


ing how Holliday happened to know Susan. 
If Bessie had meant to be snubby, she thought 
better of it, and told Susan she was sorry she 
wasn’t at home the day she came over. 

Hand in hand with Holliday, Susan felt she 
could face anything, but there was really noth- 
ing to face. Holliday had been to Cincinnati 
with her aunt, she said, and then as they all 
walked together up the long path she told how 
she and Susan had met. “ She is my first and 
best friend in this city,” she concluded, and 
Susan felt very proud. 

The other two were much impressed. It 
was clear that Holliday was a leader; even 
Bessie, whose small black eyes and firm lips 
proclaimed her love of managing, surrendered 
for the present, while Lily hung upon her ad- 
miringly. 

Joe called Lily the angel child. She had 
a round baby face, big blue eyes, and a small, 
puckered mouth, and her blonde curls were the 
most perfect imaginable, smooth and long and 
each quite distinct from the rest. Holliday’s 
hair was a mass of sunny ripple which declined 
to conform to any curling stick. Lily had a 
vague mind, and was always getting things 


52 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


twisted, but in spite of a doting grandmother 
who did all she could to spoil her, there was no 
harm in Lily. 

A tall, handsomely dressed lady passed them 
on her way out. Miss Kennedy, who was 
waiting at the door, said it was Miss Arthur 
who had brought her niece to join the class. 
Aline was a stranger and diffident, and she 
asked them to be particularly cordial to her. 

“ I am a stranger too. Miss Margaret,” said 
Holliday, laughing. “ Mustn’t they be par- 
ticularly nice to me?” 

Miss Kennedy smiled, and said she doubted 
if Holliday was ever a stranger anywhere for 
more than ten minutes. Then they all went 
together into the school-room with its queer 
angles and its gravestone. 

The six infants, as Miss Kennedy called her 
youngest pupils, were already employed, seated 
in small chairs around a table, kindergarten 
fashion, with Robin Bright as self-appointed 
master of ceremonies, and at one of the desks, 
leaning her elbow on it and looking rather 
sullen, was Aline Arthur. She was sallow and 
dark, and her black dress was unbecoming. 
It was for her father, Bessie whispered. There 


MISS MAllGAllET’S SCHOOL 5S 

was nothing about her to suggest that she be- 
longed to her handsome aunt. 

She did not seem exactly shy, Susan 
thought, as Miss Margaret introduced them, 
but quite indifferent and uninterested, and so 
she remained. They tried to be friendly be- 
cause Miss Margaret had asked it, but their 
efforts made little impression. 

It was while the younger children were 
being dismissed, that the others, who were to 
receive some final instructions about their new 
books, grouped themselves in one of the win- 
dows. Aline upon invitation joined them in a 
reluctant fashion. 

“ Let’s tell about ourselves,” Holliday sug- 
gested, “ then we shall feel better acquainted. 
I’ll begin. I am from New Orleans, and I 
am nearly thirteen. Papa has gone into busi- 
ness here, and we are going to housekeeping 
as soon as we can find a house.” 

“Your mother’s dead, isn’t she?” asked 
Lily. 

“ Yes,” Holliday answered and a shadow 
fell over her brightness, for a minute, but it 
quickly passed and she was all animation again, 
telling about her winter in Paris with Aunt 


54 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


ISTan. “ That is the longest journey I ever 
took,” she added with some complacency. 
“ Now you, Bessie.” 

“ Well,” began Bessie, laughing, “ I have 
more brothers and sisters than any of you, — 
four of one and five of the other. My father 
is a doctor, and I have been to New York 
once.” 

“ I have a father and mother, and a brother 
and sister,” said Lily, twisting one of her long 
curls, “ but I stay with Grandma most of the 
time. My father is going to be cashmere of 
the new bank.” 

“Cashmere? What’s that?” asked Aline 
sharply. 

“ She means cashier,” exclaimed Bessie. 

“ I don’t care,” said Lily, while the others 
laughed. 

“ Now you. Aline,” said Holliday. 

“ I don’t care to talk about myself,” was the 
blunt reply. 

It was such a surprise that for a moment no 
one thought of a suitable retort, and then Miss 
Margaret called to Aline that her aunt had 
come for her. 

“ That is what you get for trying to be nice 


MISS MARGARET’S SCHOOL 55 

to her,” exclaimed Bessie, as Aline left them. 

Except for this incident the first day was 
without a cloud. Holliday and Susan, walk- 
ing home together, agreed that Miss Margaret 
was the dearest teacher in the world. A tall 
mulatto woman, with big gold hoops in her 
ears, came for Holliday, who called her Gertie. 

Susan hated to mention the ring for fear 
Holliday would be offended, but she knew she 
must. When with much hesitation she began 
her explanation, it quickly became evident that 
Holliday was relieved. 

“ I am going to give you another, Susan,” 
she said. ‘‘Aunt Nan was very cross about 
it. She said it was an heirloom.” 

That afternoon Mrs. Boone ran in to ask 
how Susan liked school, and sat on the porch 
and talked for a long time. She was a very 
cheerful lady, but outside the house she al- 
ways wore a floating crepe veil. It seemed it 
was she who asked Mr. Heywood to send his 
daughter to Miss Kennedy. She knew all 
about the Heywoods. They were the nicest 
sort of people, she assured Mrs. Maxwell. 
Mr. Heywood was talking of taking the Mat- 
thews house for the winter. 


56 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Joe came in to dinner, announcing that he 
had discovered who the Heywoods were. 

“ So have the rest of us,” said Mother. 

“Is Mr. Hey wood very rich?” Susan 
asked. 

“ I don’t know about that. He is big man 
in the new steel works.” 

“ Susan, why do you ask? ” inquired Mother. 
“ It doesn’t make any difference in Holliday, 
whether she is rich or not.” 

“ Well,” said Susan, “ Holliday has lovely 
clothes, and it is interesting to be rich.” 

“ You bet it is,” cried Joe. 

“ But I do object to having the emphasis 
put on money,” said Mother. “ As if it were 
the most important thing.” 

“ You must find out about her great-grand- 
father, Susan. That is the thing,” remarked 
Joe. 

“ Mother doesn’t mean that either,” said 
Susan. “ It is Holliday herself, isn’t it. 
Mother?” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE BROCADE LADY 

Day in, day out, we’re sure to find 
The chiefest thing is being kind. 

The Brocade Lady’s house was one of the 
oldest residences in the town. For many years 
after her marriage she had lived in the North, 
but since the death of her husband she had 
come back and settled down in the home of her 
girlhood, just then opportunely left vacant. 

It was a roomy brick cottage with basement 
and attic. A flight of wooden steps led up to 
the front door, which was in a bay with a win- 
dow on either side of it and opened into a wide 
hall which divided the house in two. 

The Brocade Lady did not care for the dec- 
orations which were at this time so popular. 
Her home was conspicuously lacking in tidies 
and throws, scarfs and lambrequins, painted 
tiles and banners. Some good old-fashioned 
furniture, a few dignifled steel engravings, 

portraits of her mother and father, many solid- 
57 


58 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


looking books in the tall cases, the Living 
Age and Harper's Monthly in the magazine 
racks on the table, — this was her sitting-room. 
In the hall a grandfather’s clock ticked Vir- 
tue is its own reward^" or so Joe Maxwell said. 
For some reason the Brocade Lady was not 
an admirer of Mr. Joseph Maxwell, as she 
always called him; but Joe, who was quite 
aware of it, only laughed. 

The Brocade Lady didn’t mind her own 
business, — that is, exclusively. She did not 
pretend to, but owned to a healthy curiosity in 
other people’s aiFairs. She was blunt, and 
those who had over-sensitive feelings found it 
wise to avoid her, just as the neuralgic avoid 
draughts; but happy are they who can stand 
fresh air 'and plain speaking. She was a sort 
of general friend in need. She visited the hos- 
pitals, worked among the poor, and helped 
nurse the sick, and yet with it all she lived a 
somewhat lonely life, in her roomy cottage. 

Seeing Margaret Kennedy going to and 
fro set her to thinking. She was attracted 
by her youth and grace and the courage with 
which she was facing the sad reverses that had 
descended so suddenly upon her. Some people 


THE BROCADE LADY 


59 


said Margaret had made a great mistake in 
not accepting the home offered her by her 
uncle Mr. Seymour, but the Brocade Lady, 
knowing something of Mr. Seymour, was not 
so sure. There had been little cordiality be- 
tween him and his brother-in-law, and he 
seemed to regard the matter of the lost bonds 
as a personal grievance, accepting the general 
belief that they had been involved in the loss 
of Mr. Kennedy’s own fortune. How could 
Margaret, loving and honoring her father as 
she did, and feeling so deeply the suspicion 
cast upon his integrity, become dependent 
upon her uncle? No, the Brocade Lady liked 
her spirit. 

From a window overlooking the churchyard, 
she watched and considered and laid her plans. 
Others remarked how pale and thin Margaret 
was growing, and said “ What a pity! ” The 
Brocade Lady investigated her boarding place 
and decided it would not do. And so it hap- 
pened that one day she met Margaret, with 
whom she had slight acquaintance, and stop- 
ping her, said as she drew from her bag a 
scrap of paper, ‘‘ I have been trying to write 
an advertisement and as I never did such a 


60 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


thing before, I am in doubt how to word it.” 

Margaret took the paper held out to her, 
and the Brocade Lady continued, “ I have 
been thinking for some time that I should like 
to have some one in the house with me. Anne 
goes home at night. I live simply, but well 
enough, and in consideration of their company 
I should ask only a moderate board. But 
then I don’t want just anybody. Now how 
can I possibly say all that in an advertise- 
ment? ” 

Margaret laughed. “ I don’t think you can,” 
she answered. Then, looking down at the 
paper and up at the Brocade Lady, and with 
some hesitation, she added, “ Do you really 
want a boarder?” 

“ If I can find the right person. You don’t 
happen to know of any one? Now if you 
yourself were not settled—^” The schemer 
trembled at her own daring. 

“Would you really take me?” Margaret 
cried, and the thing was done. The Brocade 
Lady had landed her fish and the price of an 
advertisement was saved, she afterwards 
pointed out gleefully. As Margaret ex- 
pressed it, she was taken in, in every sense of 


THE BROCADE LADY 


61 


the word. It did not take her long to see 
through the little ruse, but she could not re- 
sent it, and instead set about making herself 
indispensable to this kind friend who really 
did need a companion. 

It was like heaven after what she had en- 
dured for a year in the dingy boarding house. 
Margaret took heart and unpacked certain 
little treasures of her own, making of the cor- 
ner room with its dormer windows and chimney 
cupboards a quaint and charming place, al- 
together unlike the rest of the house. 

The Brocade Lady looked on happily, smil- 
ing to see the soft color returning to Mar- 
garet’s face. It was pleasant to have some 
one to read aloud to her in the evenings, when 
her eyes were tired, and though she laughed 
when Margaret reminded her to wear her over- 
shoes, she liked it. 

Margaret would have said she had very few 
friends, but certainly there were more callers 
at the Brocade Lady’s after she was installed, 
than before. Two parishioners under one 
roof seemed to demand more frequent visits 
from Mr. Bright, for instance. Then there 
were Joe Maxwell, and Julia Anderson, who to 


62 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


quote her own words was perfectly devoted 
to Margaret. 

A rather frequent caller at the Brocade 
Lady’s at this time was Colonel Brand, the 
president of what was known to Susan as J oe’s 
bank, and of many other things besides. He 
was not a friend of Miss Kennedy’s, and be- 
trayed his surprise at finding her established 
in the sitting-room when he entered one even- 
ing. 

The Brocade Lady was one of the few per- 
sons in town who knew him well. Mr. Sey- 
mour had introduced him into high financial 
circles, where he had been wined and dined as 
a wealthy man on the lookout for investments 
should be, and the general opinion was that 
outside of business he was stiff and unap- 
proachable. 

The Brocade Lady said he was diffident, 
but this was hard to believe. She had first 
known Sidney Brand in his boyhood and felt 
a deep regard for him. He had been very 
kind to her, she said. 

It was known that Colonel Brand was in- 
teresting himself in Mrs. Carrol’s behalf, and 
that he scouted the idea that the lost bonds 


THE BROCADE LADY 


63 


had ever been returned to her. He was quite 
testy over the matter with the Brocade Lady, 
who warmly espoused Mr. Kennedy’s side. 
There was a deplorable laxity in affairs of 
trust, he declared. Too much risking of other 
people’s money. 

“ You’ll find out some day, Sidney, that Mrs. 
Carrol is not wholly to be relied upon,” she 
insisted. 

“ I own she is peculiar, but nothing more,” 
he responded. “ She has been greatly an- 
noyed by the silly stories concerning her house, 
and is naturally depressed by all the trouble 
she has had.” 

“ I should like to know what started that 
tale about the tree,” said the Brocade Lady. 
‘‘ I was questioning Nancy the other day. She 
claims to know several persons who have seen 
it. It strikes me, on the whole, as rather 
picturesque.” 

“ But if it were your house, my dear 
madam — ” 

The Brocade Lady laughed. “ It might be 
annoying, in that case,” she acknowledged. 

It was plain that Miss Kennedy did not like 
Colonel Brand. Of course she was not pres- 


64 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

ent when Mrs. Carrol’s affairs were under dis- 
cussion, but in some way she divined his opin- 
ion of her father and was hurt by it. 

The Brocade Lady could hardly have felt 
more interest in the little school if it had been 
her own, and the attention lavished upon Mar- 
garet by her adoring pupils pleased her greatly. 
Few days passed without some sort of an 
off ering, 

“ Lily seems to think you don’t have any- 
thing to eat over at your house,” Mrs. Boone 
told the Brocade Lady. “ Whenever we have 
anything she particularly likes she insists on 
taking some to Miss Kennedy.” 

Robin Bright became a devoted satellite, 
dropping in at all hours, and making himself 
perfectly at home, and if Miss Margaret felt 
inclined for a walk she had a choice of half a 
dozen companions. Daily contact with these 
merry young things was the best medicine her 
sad spirit could have. In helping them solve 
their small everyday problems, her own 
greater ones began to look less dark. 

In the Brocade Lady’s own room was an 
illuminated text: 

“ After winter followeth summer; after the 


THE BROCADE LADY 


65 


night the day returneth, and after a tempest 
a great calm.” 

With a new hope springing up in her heart 
Margaret copied it and hung it over her desk, 
beneath her father’s picture. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE WISE MAN 

“Like a wise man, who built a house, and digged deep and 
laid his foundation upon a rock.” 

‘‘ We can’t possibly tell her our secrets, 
Susan. I really think that would be casting 
pearls before swine.” 

Susan laughed. Holliday said such funny 
things. “ I’m afraid Aline wouldn’t like to 
be called swine,” she said, “ but of course we 
couldn’t — show her our diaries, for instance.” 

“ I should rather think not,” Holliday cried. 
“ No, there are some things we are not going 
to tell anybody, but we can try to be nice to 
Aline for Miss Margaret’s sake.” 

They were walking home from school to- 
gether. By going a square out of her way 
Susan could walk home with Holliday, who 
then, to make things even, walked a square 
farther with her. 

Susan had never before been so happy. Her 
shyness was almost forgotten when she was 

with Holliday, and her pleasures were more 
66 


THE WISE MAN 67 

than doubled now she had some one to share 
them. Joe found no reason in these days to 
call her Hermit, and in the red diary she had 
crossed out the wish about living alone with a 
Persian cat and a French poodle. Holliday 
had cast these interesting beasts in the shade. 

Theirs was a friendship founded upon the 
attraction of opposites, for Holliday was 
sociable, self-possessed, sparkling, while Susan 
was shy, sensitive and very much of a mouse. 
Everyday and Holliday very well described 
them. It was written in the stars, the Brocade 
Lady said, that where Holliday went there 
would be music and applause and for Susan a 
quiet comer. 

Susan, who heard her say this, was a little 
depressed by it. Music and applause seemed 
more desirable than corners. Yet she was al- 
ways choosing the corner for herself. This 
was what the Brocade Lady meant by “ writ- 
ten in the stars.” 

Holliday begged so hard to be allowed to 
give Susan a ring, that Mrs. Maxwell at 
length reluctantly consented, though not be- 
fore Mr. Heywood had put in his plea. 
Holliday’s father was a fine-looking, genial 


68 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


person, much inclined to allow his only child 
her own way when possible. 

‘‘ Holliday is a romantic little puss,” he ex- 
plained, “ and nothing will do but she must 
give Susan a ring in memory of their first 
meeting. She is going to buy it with her own 
pocket money ; so, my dear madam, do not spoil 
a httle girl’s pleasure by any foolish scruples.” 

“ It must be a very simple one,” Mrs. Max- 
well stipulated, and so it was, but “ darling,” 
Susan said, with her initials and the date en- 
graved inside. In return she gave Holliday 
a tiny gold locket with a band of blue enamel 
on it, one that belonged to herself; and they 
were very happy over the exchange. 

Holliday declared the verse Susan had writ- 
ten about her was as good as Longfellow, and 
after seeing Susan’s, she immediately set up a 
red diary of her own. 

Mr. Hey wood took a house on North Street 
not far from Christmas Tree House, and 
Susan thought the easy, careless way in which 
life moved on there very pleasant indeed. 
Mother said Mrs. McKoy, the housekeeper, 
must be a remarkable person not to mind about 
the irregular meals, and never knowing how 


THE WISE MAN 


69 


many to prepare for. Mrs. McKoy was very 
kind to Holliday, but it was plain at times, 
even to Susan, that more authority would have 
been better. Holliday was in the main a good 
child, surprisingly unspoiled when you took 
into account her great popularity, but she had 
her willful moments. 

She never plumed herself over her posses- 
sions as Lily Boone did, nor talked about her 
pretty clothes. Indeed, she was rather careless 
about these last, which Aunt Nan attended to. 
Susan felt a great awe of Aunt Nan. She 
seemed a very grand person. 

“ But no one can ever take the place of your 
mother, Susan,” Holliday said with a sigh. 
‘‘ Mamma died three years ago, and I shall 
never, never get over it.” 

Joe and Holliday took to each other at once. 
He called her Miss Fourth of July, and she 
thought Mr. Joe was perfectly lovely, and 
wished she had a grown-up brother exactly like 
him. 

One of the secrets referred to was a resolve 
to find that missing paper for Miss Margaret. 
They had not the least idea how to begin, but 
Holliday said people used to set out to find 


70 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


things without knowing where or how, — like 
Columbus or Magellan, so why shouldn’t they? 

It seemed to Susan there w^as a difference, 
but she was nevertheless quite willing to fol- 
low Holliday on any adventurous undertak- 
ing, for the pleasure of her company if noth- 
ing else. In the meantime it was most thrill- 
ing to picture themselves at the end of a suc- 
cessful quest, presenting the recovered paper 
to Miss Margaret and receiving her expressions 
of astonished gratitude. 

It happened, as it so often does, that the 
thing they could do for Miss Margaret was 
both unromantic and disagreeable. This was 
to be friendly to Aline. 

It was flattering, to be sure, to be taken into 
her confidence and consulted like grown per- 
sons. She led them up to her room to show 
them how pretty it was, and how charming the 
view of the Seymour garden from her window. 
After they had admired it and chatted about 
other things for a while, she asked them if they 
would help her in something that was causing 
her a good deal of anxiety. It was something 
they could do better than anybody else. 

When Miss Margaret spoke in this way, it 


THE WISE MAN 


71 


was impossible to refuse her. Susan and 
Holliday were eager to do anything for her. 

She then explained that Miss Arthur had 
been the kindest of friends to her in a trying 
time, and how for this reason in particular she 
was anxious to do something for her niece. 
Aline’s mother had died when she was a baby, 
and she had led a roving life with her father, 
growing up untrained and uncontrolled. 
Now her father was dead and she had come 
to live with Miss Arthur, who was her only 
relative. 

Miss Arthur thinks that what she needs 
more than anything is association with girls of 
her own age,” Miss Margaret went on, “ and 
she thought she would be happier in a small 
class like ours than in a big school like Mrs. 
Knight’s. She is a strange girl, and I don’t 
know how to get a hold upon her, but I think 
you could help me.” 

“ Why, Miss Margaret,” Holliday ex- 
claimed, ‘‘ she hasn’t any manners at all. If 
you try to be nice to her, the first thing you 
know she turns around and slaps you. I don’t 
mean really, you know, but she says some- 
thing that is just like a slap.” 


72 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ I know she is brusque, and inclined to mis- 
interpret things, but could we not overlook 
that for a while? ” 

“ I should think that would spoil her all the 
more,” objected Holliday. 

“ She makes fun of everything,” added 
Susan. 

Miss Margaret smiled. ‘‘ We’ll try not to 
spoil her, but don’t you think you could be 
more sociable without running that risk? 
'Now yesterday you two sat in the window by 
yourselves at recess, with a book, and Bessie 
and Lily were playing dominoes. Aline was 
left alone.” 

“We were reading poetry, and Ahne hates 
poetry,” said Susan. 

“ And she probably hates dominoes too,” 
Holliday added, laughing. 

“ Oh, I know it isn’t easy,” Miss Margaret 
owned, “ but I am sure you and Susan are 
bright enough to think of some way of being 
friendly if you try. You have such good times 
together you must not be selfish in your friend- 
ship.” 

But for all Miss Margaret’s confidence in 
them, and their desire to do what she wished, 



‘“OH, I KNOW IT ISN’T EASY,’ MISS MARGARET OWNED.” 





















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THE WISE MAN 


IS 


it wasn’t easy to be sociable with Aline. “ I 
don’t believe there is anything she really likes,” 
Susan said, when she and Holliday reached the 
corner where they must part. 

But a storm which occurred a day or two 
later was the means of showing the best side of 
this difficult young person. 

It was a very severe storm, with thunder and 
lightning, a high wind and heavy rain and hail. 
Beginning just as the little children were being 
dismissed, more than an hour passed before it 
was safe for any one to venture out. For a 
time it was really alarming, and Lily, who was 
afraid of lightning, began to cry and beg to 
have the blinds closed and the gas lighted, as 
grandma always did in a storm. This was not 
possible as there were no blinds, but Miss Mar- 
garet did her best to pacify and reassure her. 

Lily’s panic might easily have spread if 
Aline had not gathered the smaller children 
around her and begun to tell them a story. 
When Miss Margaret was at liberty to give 
some attention to this part of her flock, she 
found them having a beautiful time circling 
around Aline and uttering strange sounds and 
making stranger motions. 


74 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ We are wind fairies, Miss Margaret,” 
Robin announced, running to her with an 
alarming “ Whoo-oo! ” “ My name is Gale, and 
Daisy’s is Breeze, and Mamie is Zephyr.” 

“ This is good of you. Aline,” Miss Mar- 
garet exclaimed. “ Where did you learn how 
to entertain little people so well? ” 

“ I don’t know,” Ahne answered. “ It is 
just a story my father used to tell me;” 
but she looked pleased at Miss Margaret’s 
praise. 

Susan and Holhday, who had been sitting in 
the window watching the storm, felt ashamed 
that they had thought only of themselves. 

Just as the outside gale was calming down, 
the inside one came to grief with a bumped 
head, and while he was being consoled, through 
the swinging doors came the rector, Mr. 
Bright. He was already popular with Miss 
Margaret’s class, for he had a hearty, cheery 
manner and a gift for story telling, and every- 
body was glad to see him. When Robin was 
himself again, they drew up their chairs in a 
sociable group and asked for a story. 

“ What about? ” the Rector wished to know. 

“ Tell us about the Wise Man and how he 


THE WISE MAN 


75 


came to be buried here,” suggested HolKday. 

Mr. Bright had a way of doing as he was 
asked, without tiresome preliminaries, so he 
told them about the minister who had served 
St. Mark’s faithfully for many years, and who 
died suddenly one Sunday night after having 
preached a sermon from the text : ‘‘ Every one 
therefore who heareth these sayings of mine 
and doeth them shall be likened unto a wise 
man who built his house upon a rock.” He 
had no family or near relatives, and in his will 
made a request to be buried within the walls of 
the church. When his wish was carried out it 
seemed fitting to his friends to put upon his 
gravestone the words which had inspired his 
last message, for he was a wise man, faithful 
to the commands of his Master. 

“ It is rather appropriate to have a wise 
man buried in our school-room,” said Holliday. 

'‘Why can’t we take that for our text?” 
asked Susan. 

Miss Margaret had asked them to choose a 
class text, but the matter was as yet undecided. 

At first it seemed rather a queer text, but 
after they had talked it over it seemed more de- 
sirable. Mr. Bright suggested the words from 


76 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


St. Luke’s Gospel: “ Like a man who built an 
house, and digged deep and laid the founda- 
tion on a rock.” 

“ I always liked that story,” said Bessie. 
“ You feel so glad that after the rain descended 
and the floods came and the winds blew, the 
house stood.” 

“ Tell about the one that tumbled down,” 
urged Robin, for this was to him the most in- 
teresting part of the story. 

“ I don’t see what it means, anyway,” Aline 
objected. 

‘‘ Tell us please, Mr. Bright,” said Holliday. 

“ Do you really want a sermon? ” he asked, 
laughing. “ Well, the house in the story is 
the symbol for what we are in ourselves,—^ 
what we make of ourselves. The flrst thing 
in building is a good foundation; to get that 
we have to dig deep, — work hard. If we do 
this, following the example, obeying the words, 
trusting the help of Christ our Master Builder, 
the house we raise will be able to withstand all 
the storms of sorrow or temptation that beat 
upon it. 

“ The man who built on the sand was prob- 
ably indolent; he said, ‘What’s the use? I 


THE WISE MAN 


77 


don’t like to dig, the storms may not come; I 
will take it easy and trust to luck. I’ll have a 
merry time now and not think about the fu- 
ture ! ’ Through not being willing to take 
trouble in the beginning he lost everything in 
the end.” 

“ There is another thing,” said Miss Mar- 
garet, as the rector paused. “ Though digging 
is hard, there is pleasure in it too, — in conquer- 
ing difficulties.” There was a pretty glow in 
her face as she spoke. 

“ Ah, Miss Kennedy, if you can inspire your 
pupils with that feeling you are a successful 
teacher,” Mr. Bright said. 

“ I dag an awful deep hole th’ other day,” 
put in Robin. 

At this point Mrs. Boone’s coachman ap- 
peared at the door. He had come for Lily 
and as many more as the carriage would hold. 
And thus ended the sermon. 


CHAPTER VIII 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 

There are tales galore 
Of love and war; 

Of fact and of fancy free, 

But we like the most 
A lonely ghost. 

In a tale of mystery. 

Yes, honey, I knows it. White folks say 
there ain’t no ghosts, but you’s bound to be- 
lieve the testimony of your vision. Miss Susan, 
an’ I done seen that Christmas Tree for my- 
self, — yes’m.” Mammy Ria shook her head 
solemnly as she opened the oven door and drew 
out a pan of gingerbread. 

“ Oh, how good it smells ! ” Susan exclaimed. 
“ But go on and tell us about it, mammy.” 

“ Please do,” Holliday urged. 

Mammy shook her head again. “You all 
’ll jes’ say it’s foolishness,” she objected, push- 
ing the pan back and closing the door. 

“ No, indeed, mammy, we won’t. Will we, 
Holliday? Please, now.” 

Mammy Ria lived in a comfortable little 

T8 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


79 


cabin back of Miss Arthur’s country place, 
where her husband, Uncle Dan, helped with the 
gardening. The country car which ran as far 
as the new reservoir, passed near Miss Ar- 
thur’s gate, and from there it was only a pleas- 
ant walk. Susan loved to go to see Mammy 
Ria, and to-day she had Holliday with her; 
and besides this they had left Miss Margaret 
to make a call at the Arthurs’, and were to stop 
for her on their way back and see Aline for a 
little while. 

Mammy was ironing in her spotless kitchen, 
a task well adapted to story telling, and the 
promise of a feast to come was in the air. 
Through the open door you saw in the next 
room a wonderful white bed with ruffled and 
fluted pillow covers, and a spread old Miss had 
given her when she was married. Mammy was 
short and stout, with a clear brown skin and a 
grizzled head upon which she wore a bright 
bandanna, in the old-fashioned way, and her 
manners belonged to the same period. She 
loved dearly to tell a story, and her reluctance 
was merely feigned for the pleasure of being 
urged. 

“ Well,” she began as Susan and Holliday 


80 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


settled themselves to listen, “ I ain’t seen that 
tree but once, but old Zeke told Dan that when- 
ever they leaves the shutters of the east parlor 
open at night you kin see the Christmas tree 
and Miss Tina steppin’ here and steppirv’ thar, 
hanging pretties on it. The night I seen it, I 
was cornin’ from Miss Julia’s, where they had 
been havin’ a dinner company, and I wasn’t 
lookin’ to see it, but was studyin’ ’bout some 
shirts for my old man. I come along by the 
Seymours’, Miss Susan, and I stopped on the 
corner to see if there was a car, an’ I jes’ hap- 
pen to glance towards the Clifford house,^ — 
that’s what I calls it — and there in the east 
window was that Christmas tree, plain as day. 
Yes’m, plain as 7 i 007 z-day. Don’t talk to me 
’bout there ain’t no ghosts. There’s somethin’.” 
Mammy brought her iron down with emphasis. 

“Weren’t you awfully frightened?” asked 
Holliday. 

“ I reckon I was, honey. I jes’ lit out down 
North Street fast as I could run. For I tells 
you. Miss Holliday, that was a ghost tree, 
’cause there ain’t no tree in that room in the 
daytime. I’se been thar. I don’t care how 
you ’splain it, for you can’t ’splain it. And 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 81 

Miss Anne she don’t ’low those shutters to be 
lef’ open any more.” 

“ But, mammy, who was Miss Tina? Tell us 
the whole story,” said Susan, as mammy, open- 
ing the oven door once more, took out the gin- 
gerbread and turned it upside down on the 
flour sieve. 

“ Well, honey, the beginnin’ of it was long 
ago, when old Mr. Ben Clifford built that 
house, ’way back yonder. They used to say he 
cheated his brother out of his share of their 
father’s money, but I don’t know nothin’ ’bout 
that. The old Clifford place was just across 
the road from Miss Mary’s, — that’s your 
grandma,^an’ I used to hear the white folks 
talkin’ ’bout Mr. Ben doin’ his brother so 
mean. Anyway, he built the grandest house 
ever seen up to that time in this part of the 
country. I heard Miss Mary say the doors 
was solid rosewood, with solid silver knobs, and 
the furniture in the big parlor was solid gold. 
Yes ’twas. Miss Susan, it come from Paris. 

‘‘ Miss Geraldine, Mr. Ben’s oldest daughter, 
had a cornin’ out party, and Miss Mary went 
to it. I was waitin’ on her then, and she told 
me all about how grand it was, and how fine 


82 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Miss Geraldine was dressed. Well, it looked 
like the CliiF ords wasn’t to have much comfort 
in that house, fine as it was, for only a few 
months after her party Miss Geraldine died. 
It was from an overdose of somethin’, and they 
called it an accident, but folks said she took it 
on purpose, ’cause Mr. Ben, her pa, wouldn’t 
let her marry as she wanted to. It looked like 
they didn’t have much reason, — those Cliffords. 
If they couldn’t have exactly what they wanted, 
they up and did some foolish thing like that. 
Then it wasn’t long before Mrs. Clifford died, 
and then young Mr. Ben and another of the 
daughters, till only Miss Anne was left, and 
uld Mr. Ben. Then Miss Anne she married 
Mr. Carrol, and nothin’ would do but she must 
live at home with her father. Miss Anne was 
always curious, and after a while her husband 
he went off to some foreign land, so they say, 
and never did come back. All Miss Anne’s 
children died young but Mr. Ben, who was 
named for his grandpa, and they w^as always 
takin’ him here, there and everywhere for his 
health. 

“ Well, Mr. Ben grew up and married Miss 
• Tina Graham and by and by they had two 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 83 

children, and when the youngest wasn’t but a 
year old, young Mr. Ben died. Miss Tina 
and the children and Miss Anne their grand- 
ma, and her father old Mr. Ben, lived together 
in the old house. It was when the children was 
four or five years old, — the winter you was 
a little baby. Miss Susan, and I was livin’ with 
Miss Kitty and Mr. Frank and lookin’ after 
you and Mr. Joe, — that the accident happened. 
It was Christmas Eve and Miss Tina was 
trimmin’ a tree for the children, in the east 
parlor. They had been put to bed in the 
nursery, with their stockin’s bangin’ before the 
fire, and their nurse sat there till they was 
asleep, and then she went down to the kitchen 
for somethin’. Well, nobody ever knew just 
how it happened, ’cept that the children must 
have woke up and got out of bed to look at 
their stockings, but somehow they caught on 
fire, — and way off from everybody in that big 
house with the doors shut — ” 

“ Oh, mammy, they didn’t burn up? ” cried 
Holliday. 

Mammy nodded, “Yes’m. The nurse she 
’clar to goodness she wasn’t more than a min- 
ute, but I reckon she hadn’t much sense no- 


84 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


how, for ’stead of puttin’ out the fire she ran 
screamin’ for Miss Tina, and it was too late.” 

“ Just think of those dear little children. 
Mother told me about it once ever so long ago, 
I remember now,” said Susan. 

“ It was the terriblest thing ever happened 
in this town, an’ it did look as if there was a 
curse on that house. It killed old Mr. Ben, 
and Miss Tina never was herself again. Her 
mind jest wandered on Christmas trees, an’ she 
was always trimmin’ one for the children. The 
tree was left standin’ in the east parlor for ever 
so long, but when I was there durin’ Miss 
Tina’s last illness it had been took away. Miss 
Anne is still livin’ there, and they do say she 
is gettin’ mighty queer. Looks like she’d had 
trouble enough. 

‘‘And now. Miss Susan, honey, that’s all there 
is to it. If you can ’splain about that Chris- 
mas tree, you can ’splain it. All I know is, I 
seen it, and Silvy seen it, and they do say Miss 
Anne seen it once herself and that’s why she 
don’t ’low those shutters lef’ open any more.” 

“ I certainly can’t explain it, mammy, but I 
wish I could see it,” Susan replied. 

“We can see Christmas Tree House from 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 85 

our windows/’ said Holliday, “ and I mean to 
look out every night, so if the shutters are open 
I shall see the tree.” 

Mammy Ria’s fresh warm gingerbread 
offered a welcome change of subject after the 
sad story, and then they remembered their 
promise to Miss Margaret not to forget how 
short the afternoons were. 

“ Do you suppose it is just imagination, 
Holliday, about the tree? ” Susan asked as 
they walked up the long avenue leading to 
Miss Arthur’s house. 

“ I don’t know. Maybe there are ghosts.” 
Holliday shivered and glanced over her 
shoulder. The house was not yet in sight, 
and the tall cedars cast dark shadows across 
the road. A squirrel scurrying through the 
leaves beneath a great beech made them both 
start. They looked at each other and laughed 
a little nervously, and Holliday asked if it was 
much farther? A moment more, however, and 
a turn brought them out into a broad sunlit 
space before the house, where the thought of 
ghosts seemed less alarming. 

They found Miss Margaret with Miss Ar- 
thur in her handsome drawing-room, which 


86 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


opened at one end into a conservatory, and a 
maid was bringing in tea. Miss Arthur, who 
was herself handsome and stately, received 
them graciously, and sent for Aline, who pres- 
ently appeared and seemed rather pleased to 
see her schoolmates. 

Her white dress was far more becoming than 
the black she wore at school, and Miss Mar- 
garet’s eyes for the first time discovered a cer- 
tain promise of beauty in the tall, awkward 
girl. It was plain that her aunt did not see 
it, and that her attitude towards Aline was 
very critical. She was evidently contrasting 
her with Holliday as the three girls sat to- 
gether on the divan, and wondering no doubt 
why fate had sent her such a plain, unattractive 
niece. 

Everything about Miss Arthur’s house was 
handsome and costly, but it lacked the home- 
like touch. Aline took the girls up the broad, 
shallow staircase to her own room, which was 
large and beautifully furnished; yet as Susan 
said afterwards, it was just like a spare room. 
There were no little girl treasures about, noth- 
ing to express the owner herself. 

“ This is a lovely house. Aline,” Holliday 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


87 


said. “ You aunt is very good to you, isn’t 
she?” 

“ I suppose she is,” was Aline’s indifferent 
answer. “ She thinks it is her duty, that’s 
all.” 

“ But I think she is fond of you. Aline,” said 
Susan. 

“ No, she isn’t. If I looked like Holliday, 
she would be; but she is always finding fault, 
and Miss Ross carries tales about me.” 

It was embarrassing when Aline talked in 
this way. 

Miss Ross was Miss Arthur’s companion 
who had lived with her for a number of years. 
Aline often spoke of her in this contemptuous 
tone. 

“ She is afraid I may cut her out,” Aline 
continued, “ but she needn’t be, for when I am 
eighteen I am going away somewhere and earn 
my own living.” 

“Oh, are you. Aline? What lovely paper 
dolls ! Look, Susan ! ” and Holliday bent over 
a table where among brushes and water color 
materials lay several dolls with their wardrobes 
spread out around them. 

“ That one is not dry yet,” said Aline. “ I 


88 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


was working on it when you came. I am 
making them for the gardener’s little girl, who 
is sick.” 

“ Why, they are beautiful, Aline. Is this 
the way you are going to make your living? ” 
asked Susan. “ See, Holliday, the brown- 
eyed one looks like you.” 

“ Do you think they are good enough to 
sell? ” Aline exclaimed, evidently pleased with 
their admiration. 

“ I’ll tell you what would be fun,” said 
Susan, “ to have a society — just Miss Mar- 
garet’s class, you know, and make things and 
have a sale and help somebody, some poor 
person, with the money.” 

In the drawing-room Miss Kennedy was try- 
ing to say some pleasant, hopeful things about 
Aline to her aunt. She spoke of Aline’s 
fondness for children and what a help she had 
proved the day of the storm. 

“ Thank you, Margaret, but I am afraid I 
cannot see it,” Miss Arthur replied. “ She 
seems to me hopelessly cold and antagonistic. 
Yes, she is fond of children, I believe. She 
spends a good deal of time over at the gar- 
dener’s. Possibly she would make a nursery 


CHRISTMAS TREE HOUSE 


89 


maid, but that wasn’t all I hoped for in my 
brother’s daughter.” 

‘‘ I think Aline is very much like her aunt,” 
Susan announced as they walked down to the 
car. Miss Margaret in the middle. 

“Why, do you? I don’t,” cried Holliday. 
“ Miss Arthur is — elegant and — ” 

“ I know, but there’s something underneath 
that’s like her.” 

“ Susan, where did you get such insight, I’d 
like to know?” said Miss Margaret. 

For a moment Her Shyness thought she was 
being laughed at, and the color surged into her 
face, but it turned to a glow of pleasure when 
Miss Margaret went on to say that it had not 
occurred to her before, but now Susan men- 
tioned it, she believed it was true. They were 
alike. The difF erence lay in age, training, and 
environment. 

“ Susan doesn’t talk to people much, but she 
looks at them and thinks about them,” observed 
Holliday. 

“ She regards them as she does her story 
books,” Miss Margaret added. 

When they reached the little station, which 
resembled a bird cage more than anything else. 


90 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


whom should they find perusing the afternoon 
paper there but Joe. He immediately sug- 
gested walking up to the reservoir to meet the 
car just for the pleasure of being out of doors 
in the glorious air. This was what he said, 
but as he took his place beside Miss Kennedy 
it was plain he was enjoying more than the air. 
Susan and Holliday followed, gathering leaves 
and berries and laughing at everything and 
nothing, as people do when they are young and 
merry. 

Altogether it was a happy afternoon. As 
they said good-by to Miss Margaret at the 
Brocade Lady’s gate, they all decided that on 
some other Saturday afternoon they would do 
the same thing, or something like it. 


CHAPTER IX 


AN ADVENTURE 

You little guess what happenings wait 
Behind that stately iron gate. 

When Holliday and Susan met that Satur- 
day morning at Self and Son’s, nothing was 
farther from their thoughts than an adventure. 
Susan needed a pencil and Holliday a com- 
position book, and they both intended to go 
straight home and finish their lessons. But it 
was a delicious morning with an intoxicating 
freshness in the air that called for something 
more exciting than lessons. Having once 
breathed deeply of it, you were lost. 

There’s all afternoon and to-night, Susan,” 
Holliday exclaimed, meaning for lessons. 
“ Let’s take a walk.” 

Susan, hesitating between a red and a blue 
pencil, said, “ Mother has gone down town, 
but I think she wouldn’t mind, if we don’t go 
far.” 

“No, we won’t go far,” Holliday agreed, 
“ and we’ll stop at Browinski’s and get some 

91 


92 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


taffy. Papa gave me my allowance this morn- 
ing.” She stroked the parrot’s head with her 
forefinger as she spoke. 

“ Better not, dearie. He might bite you,” 
cautioned Herself, who was waiting on them. 

“Oh, pshaw!” cried the parrot, who ap- 
peared much taken with Holliday, and had 
been showing off in his very best manner. 
Mrs. Self looked not unlike one of her old 
worn books this morning, so rusty and faded 
she was almost illegible. Himself was very 
bad with the rheumatism, she told them. 

Holliday said she was awfully sorry, and 
Susan hoped he’d soon be better, and then out 
into the sunshine they went and forgot all 
about the troubles of the Selfs. 

At the corner they met Robin Bright and 
his little dog Foxy. 

“ Lemme go wid you, Susan! Lemme go 
wid you, Holliday!” he cried, and Foxy’s 
tail, — what was left of it, and his bright ques- 
tioning eyes made the same plea. 

“Come on,” called Holliday. “I don’t 
know where we are going, but you can come.” 

At Browinski’s, where they stopped for the 
taffy, they found Lily Boone, waiting while 


AN ADVENTURE 


93 


her grandmother ordered good things for Sun- 
day. Susan didn’t see any reason for asking 
her to go along, and she was disappointed 
when she accepted Holliday’s invitation and 
let her grandmother drive away without her. 
Holliday was always doing things like this. 
Susan wished she wasn’t quite so sociable. She 
had even asked Sophy Idelle to come to see 
her. 

Susan, who had once played with Sophy 
Idelle, found her rather stupid now, though 
there were certain indisputable advantages in 
her friendship. Grandpa Browinski was 
liberal in the matter of cream puffs and other 
dainties, and on occasion Sophy had been 
known to treat to ice cream. It was under- 
stood that she was not exactly on a social foot- 
ing with the rest of them. For instance, Lily 
Boone did not invite Sophy Idelle to her 
Christmas party, yet Lily did not disdain one 
of her cream puffs. It did not seem quite 
fair. When she said something of the kind to 
Joe, he pointed out that JNIrs. Boone was one 
of Browinski’s best customers, and that it was 
all in the way of business. As for Sophy 
Idelle, he added, she would get there some day. 


94 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Sophy wasn’t in the store this morning, so 
of course was not invited to join the expedi- 
tion ; and after all, Lily was harmless. It was 
too pleasant out under the blue sky to mind 
anything. 

They walked on, not thinking nor caring 
where they were going, until Foxy, who was 
running ahead, suddenly turned in at an open 
gate, which proved on investigation to belong 
to a private alley. Robin ran after his dog, 
and as the girls looked in at the gate they saw 
him disappear within one of the stable doors 
that opened on the alley. 

“ Robin ! Robin ! ” called Holliday. “ Where 
do you suppose that child has gone? ” 

After waiting a minute or two they followed 
him. Holliday, peeping in at the stable door, 
beckoned to her companions. “ I see him. 
There isn’t any one here. Come on.” 

“ It isn’t very polite to go into back yards,” 
Susan objected. “ Call him again, Holliday.” 

If Robin heard he paid no heed, and as 
Holliday pointed out, circumstances alter 
cases, and polite or not, there was nothing to 
do but go after him. So they slipped through 
a paved stable yard into a large garden, once 


AN ADVENTURE 


95 


evidently laid out with care but now neglected. 

“ I wonder — ” Susan began, when Holliday 
grasped her hand. “ Susan, do you know 
where we are? ” she cried. “ See that statue! 
It is Christmas Tree House! ” 

And there is Robin going in, — at the base- 
ment door,” Susan exclaimed. “ What shall 
we do? The door is shut, see! ” They looked 
at each other in astonished perplexity and dis- 
may. 

Oh, what is the matter? Is it the haunted 
house? Oh, Susan, oh, Holliday, let’s run. I 
am so afraid! ” Lily wrung her hands. 

“ You needn’t be a baby, Lily Boone, we 
have got to find Robin.” Holliday spoke 
sternly. ‘‘ Ghosts won’t hurt you in the day- 
time, but if you are afraid you can go back, 
or straight through to the front gate.” 

“Come with me please, please, Susan!” 
Lily wailed. 

“ Suppose we do go around to the front door, 
Holliday, and ring the bell,” Susan suggested, 
rather uneasy herself. 

This seemed sensible, as there was no sign 
of Robin, and with quick-heating hearts they 
tiptoed through the grass, in and out amongst 


96 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


the shrubbery, oppressed by a queer guilty 
feeling, only to find when they reached the 
front that the garden was fenced otF on both 
sides from the entrance, and though there was 
a gate near the flight of steps it was securely 
locked. The street outside looked sunny and 
quiet. Holliday laughed uneasily as she 
looked across at her own home. ‘‘ It seems so 
funny that it’s there and we can’t get to it,” 
she said. 

“ What shall we do now? ” cried Lily. 

We’ll have to go back through the alley, 
and around Pine Street, I suppose,” Holliday 
answered. 

“ And leave Robin here? They might steal 
him,” said Susan. 

“ Then the only thing to do is to knock at 
that back door,” said Holliday firmly. “ You 
can do as you please, Lily. Susan and I are 
going to find Robin.” 

By this time Lily was quite as much afraid 
to go as to stay, and could only hold fast to 
Susan’s hand and cry. 

The basement door, when they reached it, 
was not latched, and after knocking and calling 
Robin and getting no response of any kind, 


AN ADVENTURE 


97 


Holliday pushed it open. Before them was a 
long passage, with stairs going up to the floor 
above and a door with a fanlight at the other 
end. 

More and more mysterious seemed Robin’s 
disappearance. Indeed, the sense of mystery 
rested heavily on them. The thought of the 
little burned children, and the poor mother who 
spent her days trimming Christmas trees, op- 
pressed them. No wonder they started and 
drew close together when a draught from some- 
where above caused the door by which they 
had entered to close suddenly. After that the 
quiet began to seem alarming. 

‘‘ We’ll have to go and tell Mr. Bright,” 
Susan whispered in desperation. But now 
another obstacle intervened. The door re- 
fused to open. It was a massive door and 
something was amiss with the lock. Nor could 
they do any better with the street door when, 
stealing along the passage like guilty things, 
they tried it. 

“I never knew such a place! What’s the 
matter with all the doors?” said Holliday. 
She held her head up bravely, but her voice 
trembled. Everybody laiows how dreadful is 


98 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


the feeling of being locked in and unable to 
escape. “ I am going up those stairs,” she 
announced steadily. 

“Oh, Holliday — are you?” gasped Susan. 

As they stood close together at the bottom 
of the flight, a low murmur of voices came to 
them from remote regions above. “ Come,” 
said Holliday firmly, and up they went three 
abreast. 

They emerged presently into a broad, well- 
lighted hall, so much like other halls that they 
felt a little reassured. Holliday went softly 
forward, the other two following. In a room 
on the right a lady and gentleman sat talking. 
The lady was the same one who had spoken to 
them on the day of the runaway. 

She looked up now in surprise at sight of 
Holliday and asked haughtily, “ Who are you, 
and what do you want? ” 

“We are looking for Robin Bright. He 
ran in here after his dog, and if you’ll please — ” 

The lady rose, interrupting Holliday. 
“Nonsense!” she said. “There is no child 
or dog here. It is nothing but idle curiosity 
that has brought you. What’s that girl crying 
for? ” For Lily was weeping afresh, clinging 


AN ADVENTURE 99 

to Susan. The military-looking gentleman 
also rose. 

But Robin is here. We saw him run in. 
Please look. He is Mr. Bright’s little boy/’ 
Holliday answered, standing her ground. 

At this moment an unmistakable “ woof, 
woof,” sounded from behind the folding doors. 
Crossing the room, Mrs. Carrol opened them, 
and out sprang Foxy, joyously, and there 
seated at a table with a large illustrated book 
before them were Aline Arthur and Robin. 
The latter slipped down and ran to meet them. 

“ Hi, Susan! Hi, Holliday! Didn’t I fool 
you? ” he exclaimed. 

Aline sat still and laughed. 

“ Please explain this. Aline,” said Mrs. Car- 
rol. 

“ Why, Robin ran into the garden. Cousin 
Anne, and I called him in and hid him to tease 
the girls.” 

“We are very much obliged to you. Miss 
Aline Arthur,” said Holliday, her eyes blazing. 
“ I am sorry we had to come into your house, 
but we couldn’t help it,” she added, turning to 
Mrs. Carrol. 

The old grizzled negro now appeared from 


100 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


somewhere, and his mistress, without noticing 
Holliday any further, ordered him to show 
these children out; and out they went, Robin, 
Foxy, and all. When they reached the gate at 
the foot of the stone steps. Aline was heard 
calling a mocking good-by from the porch 
above. 

“ I think Aline is very disagreeable,” said 
Susan. “And what was she doing in Christ- 
mas Tree House, I wonder? ” 

“ Disagreeable? ” echoed Holliday. “ I think 
she is hateful. And as for you, Mr. Robin 
Bright, we won’t take you to walk again very 
soon.” 

While they waited for Lily to dry her eyes 
and straighten her hat, the military-looking 
man passed them. “ Well, I am glad to he 
out of that haunted house,” Lily was saying, 
still tearfully. 

The man paused. “ I think you had better 
drop that nonsense of the haunted house,” he 
said. “ There is no such thing.” 

The girls looked at each other. “ Well, did 
you ever! ” exclaimed Holliday. “ Who is he, 
I wonder?” 

“ I don’t know,” said Susan. “ But how 


AN ADVENTURE 


101 


did Aline happen to be there? Is she re- 
lated? She said ‘ Cousin Anne.’ Oh, Holli- 
day, weren’t you thinking all the time about 
those children! Wasn’t it dreadful!” 

And yet by the drugstore clock it had all 
happened in less than an hour. 

That afternoon Mrs. Boone came over with 
a highly colored version of the adventure 
gleaned from Lily, who she declared had not 
yet recovered from the shock. “ Lily is of a 
most sensitive and delicate organization,” she 
said. “ Of course, Holliday and Susan didn’t 
realize what they were doing when they 
dragged her into that house against her 
will. Why, I had to give her aromatic spirits 
of ammonia and put her to bed.” 

“ Susan, I never dreamed of your doing a 
thing hke that ! ” Mrs. Maxwell exclaimed, 
when Mrs. Boone had left. “ Going into a 
strange house— I can’t understand it.” 

It did not seem quite so dreadful after she 
had heard Susan’s own story, and yet — 

“ The truth is, we are not used to Susan’s 
having adventures,” said Joe. 

“ It is very odd, too, that Aline should have 
been there,” Mother continued. “ Yes, the 


102 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

Carrols and Arthurs are related. Old Mr. 
Ben Clifford, who built that house, had one 
brother, who was Miss Arthur’s grandfather, 
^her mother was a Cliff ord. But the brothers 
quarreled, and the two families have had noth- 
ing to do with each other since.” 

Holliday couldn’t stay angry with anybody 
for long, and by Monday morning her curiosity 
had the better of her indignation against Aline. 
“ I don’t think it was a bit nice of you to hide 
Robin,” she said, “ but what were you doing in 
Christmas Tree House, Aline?” 

Aline laughed. “ You were scared, weren’t 
you? I suppose you and Susan believe all 
those silly stories. Cousin Anne is my father’s 
own cousin, and I don’t know why I shouldn’t 
go to see her if I want to. Miss Ross dared 
me to go, and I went. That is all; and I like 
Cousin Anne. I’d pity myself if I believed 
in ghosts.” 

“ Did your aunt know you were going? ” 
Susan asked. 

“ I don’t see that it is any affair of yours 
whether she did or not,” was Aline’s blunt 
retort. 


CHAPTER X 


A BLACK SPIDER 

“You may sit on your tufFet, 

Yes, cushion and stuff it, 

And provide what you please if you don’t fancy whey. 

But before you can eat it, 

There’ll be, I repeat it. 

Some sort of black spider to come in the way.” 

— Mrs. Whitney, “ Mother Goose for Grown Folks.” 

It was Sophy Idelle who began the trouble, 
and yet to be perfectly fair she could not be 
said to have had very much to do with it, either. 

Susan was not altogether pleased when she 
started out with her books under her arm on 
Monday morning to find Sophy Idelle waiting 
for her at the gate. She expected to meet 
Holliday at the corner and wanted to tell her 
about Aline, and how she was related to Mrs. 
Carrol, at Christmas Tree House. Sophy 
was tiresome anyway; so her greeting was cool. 

“ I staid at my aunt’s last night and I 
thought I’d stop by for you,” Sophy said. 
“ How are you getting on at school? ” 

Oh, very well,” Susan replied. 

103 


104 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ I suppose you don’t have to study much.” 

“ Indeed, we do.” Susan resented Sophy’s 
tone of superiority. ‘‘ Miss Margaret knows 
a great deal more than most teachers. She has 
been to college. Besides, we have French 
and — ” 

‘‘ I could go there if I wanted to, but I don’t 
think I’d like it,” Sophy interrupted loftily. 

“ I don’t think you could, Sophy, for Miss 
Margaret hasn’t room for any more now,” said 
Susan. 

At the corner she paused to look for Holli- 
day, who had promised to walk down a square 
to meet her if she was early enough, but there 
was no Holliday in sight. “ I think I’ll go this 
way, Sophy,” Susan said. “ I told Holliday I 
would.” 

Perhaps if she had not shown so plainly in 
the first place that she did not care for Sophy’s 
society, Sophy would not have chosen to misin- 
terpret her action now. The confectioner’s 
granddaughter, though not exactly bright* 
was something of a genius in the art of teas- 
ing, and at sight of Charlie Willard coming 
up Vine Street she saw her opportunity. 

“ Oh, very well. Miss Philadelphia, if you’d 


A BLACK SPIDER 


105 


rather walk with a boy, I am sure I don’t care. 
Good-by.” 

Until that moment Susan had not seen 
Charlie. Her face flamed. “ That’s a story, 
Sophy Idelle,” she cried, but Sophy was al- 
ready halfway across the street. 

“ All right, Miss Philadelphia,” she called 
back jeeringly. 

Susan, overwhelmed by her old enemy, 
wondered miserably if Charlie had heard. 

If so, he did not betray it, but asked 
cheerily, ‘‘ How are you, Susan? Going this 
way? ” 

Susan knew him very well. He was Lily 
Boone’s cousin, and they had sat side by side 
in the infant class at Sunday School for sev- 
eral years. Charlie had weak ankles and wore 
clumsy braces, but he jerked along merrily in 
spite of them, only a slight frown on his 
freckled brow betraying the effort it cost. He 
was a nice boy, and Susan really liked him, 
but Sophy’s words aroused all her tiresome 
self-consciousness, so that her response to his 
greeting was very slight indeed, and his at- 
tempts at conversation as he limped beside her, 
fell flat. 


106 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Lily waited for her at the gate and an- 
nounced, “ Holliday isn’t coming to-day.” 

Susan’s wounded spirit received another 
bruise. Some one else knew more about Holli- 
day than she did. She did not ask why, but 
merely said indifferently, “Isn’t she?” and 
walked towards the door. 

“ Susan’s cross,” Aline remarked, loud 
enough for her to hear. 

It was a most trying day. Everything went 
wrong without Holliday. Susan wondered 
and wondered why she had not come, but a 
silly pride kept her from asking Lily. In her 
reading lesson she made a foolish mistake. 
She called the “ Girondists ” Gridironists, as 
Lily herself might have done, and when the 
others laughed, she came near crying. Then 
Miss Margaret, instead of being sympathetic, 
said she must learn not to mind being laughed 
at. 

The afternoon was not much better. At 
Madame Bourlier’s, where she went with 
Mother to get her winter hat, she met further 
difficulties. 

The milliner’s shop was full of customers. 
Miss Julia Anderson sat before a mirror with 



“SHE CALLED THE ‘GIRONDISTS’ GRIDIRONISTS.” 



A BLACK SPIDER 


107 


a hand glass, studying the effect at all pos- 
sible angles of a drooping white plume, while 
Miss Betty clasped her hands in an ecstasy of 
admiration. “ With a rhinestone buckle that 
will be too utterly sweet for anything,” she was 
saying. 

“ It does rather suit my style, I think my- 
self,” Miss Julia agreed, adding, “I adore 
simplicity.” 

Now simplicity and Miss Julia seemed far 
removed. The Brocade Lady declared she 
looked like a curly poodle, and while this was 
perhaps an exaggeration, her arrangement of 
frizzes and braids was something to ponder. 
However, Miss Julia, like Joe, had admirers 
enough without the Brocade Lady. 

Miss Betty always waited on Mrs. Maxwell, 
so Susan and her mother sat down and looked 
on till she should be free. Presently Miss 
Julia waked up from her absorption in the 
white plume and was astonished to see them, 
in spite of the fact that they had often met at 
Madame’s before this. 

‘'And Susan!” she exclaimed, after greet- 
ing Mrs. Maxwell. “ Ah, those pretty, pretty 
eyes. It is a shame you did not name her 


108 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Violet, Mrs. Maxwell, though Susan Her- 
mione is so dignified.” 

Joe, it seemed, had never corrected this mis- 
take. 

‘‘ I adore double names,” she went on. 
‘‘Did you ever see such lashes. Miss Betty? 
Now don’t look at me so severely, dear Mrs. 
Maxwell. Susan can’t help knowing she has 
lovely eyes.” Miss Julia put out her hands 
appealingly, and then returned suddenly to 
business, with, “ I think. Miss Betty, this knot 
of velvet should be a trifle nearer the front.” 

Although somewhat embarrassed, Susan 
could not help being pleased at Miss Julia’s 
frank admiration of her eyes. She examined 
them furtively when, her turn having at last 
arrived, she took the chair Miss Julia vacated, 
and Miss Betty began placing hat after hat on 
her head. Mother was not easy to please. 

“ Now here is one that is just the thing. 
Nothing could be nobbier,” Miss Betty said, 
diving into a box. “We made one like it in 
blue for Mrs. Seymour’s youngest daughter. 
Miss Susan will look like a picture in it.” 

“ Oh, Mother ! ” Susan cried, as the hat was 
placed on her head, “ isn’t it pretty? I love 


A BLACK SPIDER 


109 


feathers ! ’’ Certainly the blue eyes did look 
well beneath the shaded plume which curled 
around the brim of the little gray velvet hat. 

It was, as Miss Betty pointed out, quite 
Susan’s style. 

“ Don’t say it is too old. Mother. Elsie 
Seymour is younger than I am. Please let 
me have it,” Susan begged. 

‘‘ It is very, very pretty, my daughter, but I 
fear it is too expensive. I can’t be buying 
plumes like this for you just yet.” Mother 
spoke firmly. 

“Oh, Mother! — then I don’t want any.” 
Susan was surprised at herself the minute she 
had said it, and Mother looked as if she could 
not quite believe her ears. 

“ I mean — ” Susan began. 

“ Then I shall have to select what seems to 
me suitable, without your help,” Mrs. Maxwell 
said. 

Susan walked away to the front of the store 
ashamed of the tears that filled her eyes. All 
the clerks were busy in the show-room, only 
Madame was matching some velvet behind a 
show-case. Susan stood looking out through 
a display of winter millinery at the busy street. 


110 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


She wanted that hat dreadfully, yet she had no 
right to speak so to Mother. The street was 
broad and above the buildings on the other side 
a bit of sky, blue with a soft white cloud in it, 
was visible. For some reason she did not un- 
derstand, she began to feel ashamed. 

Presently she slipped back into the show- 
room, where Mother was still consulting with 
Miss Betty, a cluster of tips in her hand. 

“ Mother, please excuse me. I don’t mind, 
really,” she whispered. 

“ If her coat is gray, why not a gray hat like 
this with knots of cherry velvet? ” Miss Betty 
suggested. 

At this moment a very grand lady swept 
into the shop. “ Swept ”is not quite the word, 
she floated rather, for the filmy, gauzy fabrics 
that fluttered around her seemed actually to 
bear her along. Madame herself conducted 
her. 

“ I want a hat for this girl,” she said, and 
at this Susan perceived Holliday advancing 
behind her, in her usual tiptoe fashion. The 
floating lady was evidently “ Aunt Nan.” 

Holliday waved her hand gayly when she 
caught sight of Susan, and when the trying 


A BLACK SPIDER 


111 


on began she looked prettier in each succes- 
sive hat. There was a certain resemblance be- 
tween her and the languid lady, in feature and 
coloring. The difference was in the sparkle. 

Holliday introduced her aunt, Mrs. Law- 
rence, to Mrs. Maxwell and Susan. Mrs. 
Lawrence was very gracious. Susan heard 
her telling Mother she regretted very much 
that she could not have Holliday with her, but 
it was not possible at present. Holliday, she 
said with a little shrug, was hopelessly demo- 
cratic, and saw no reason why she should not 
make friends with everybody and anybody; 
and it was so important in this formative period 
to have refined associates. 

Susan wondered if Aunt Nan approved of 
her. Surely she would not of Sophy Idelle. 

“ I did not come this morning because Aunt 
Nan was here,” Holliday explained. ‘‘ And 
listen, Susan, you know that disagreeable man 
who said the house wasn’t haunted? Well, he 
is Colonel Brand. He is a Northerner. I 
don’t like Northerners. Do you?” 

It was so natural to agree with Holliday 
that Susan had assented before she knew it. 
It was only when she was walking home with 


112 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Mother that she suddenly realized what she 
had done. Why, her own mother was a 
Northerner, not to mention Grandmother and 
Aunt Emily; and she had in a way repudiated 
them. And then came the question, would 
Holliday not like her if she knew? Oh, dear! 

“ Isn’t it funny that when you are having a 
particularly good time something always goes 
and happens?” Susan leaned her elbow on 
Joe’s table and watched his pen traveling over 
a large sheet of paper. 

Joe wrote on for a minute, then he tossed 
away his cigarette, stuck his pen behind his ear 
and leaned back. “ You mean that when your 
tuifet is particularly soft, and your curds and 
whey unusually acceptable, a black spider is 
certain to come along, — n'est ce pas? ” 

Susan smiled. That was it. 

“ I’ll tell you, Susan Hermione, life’s a prob- 
lem and no mistake. What’s your trouble? ” 
“ Oh, nothing,” she sighed, a little surprised 
to find that Joe too found life a puzzle. 

‘‘Well, I must say you are looking very 
melancholy over nothing,” Joe remarked, light- 
ing another cigarette. “ It is just an everlast- 
ing grind, and I am tired of it,” he continued. 


A BLACK SPIDER 113 

‘‘ Colonel Brand is the sort of man who thinks 
only of business, and regards a little innocent 
diversion as nothing short of a crime.” 

“ Of course you have to dig,” said Susan, 
thinking of the Wise Man. 

“ Now see here, Susie, don’t you begin 
preaching. Just please attend to your own 
foundations.” 

“ I’m not preaching. You made me think 
of something Mr. Bright said. And then you 
are digging, Joe,^ — studying law.” 

“ I haven’t been doing much law this week,” 
Joe confessed, “ but I mean to buckle down 
to it again. In fact,” he went on with some 
diffidence, “ I am trying my hand at a short 
story. Listen to this, Hermie, and see how 
it strikes you.” 

In the excitement of hearing Joe’s story 
Susan forgot her own troubles. 

“ To begin, I have a dandy name for it, 
‘ The Lost Shrine.’ How’s that? It is the 
shrine of their love, you know. The man and 
the girl — I haven’t named them yet — plight 
their vows in the firelight in the drawing-room 
of an old colonial house. He is about to leave 
on a three years’ cruise, and at the end of that 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


114 

time they promise each other to meet in the 
same spot, — this chimney corner — Well, 
something happens to interfere with their let- 
ters. I think there is an old dragon of an aunt, 

■ — so he does not hear a word from her, and 
when he returns after the three years he finds 
the old home in ruins and the girl gone. 

“ Then he goes prancing about the country 
trying to find her, without any success. The 
old aunt is dead and there are no other rela- 
tives. I haven’t worked it all out yet, but in 
the end he goes to see an old friend of his 
father, in Washington, we’ll say, and this man 
is a collector.” 

“A bill collector?” asked Susan. 

A bill collector! No, silly! An antiquary, a 
collector of antiques, — old things; — furniture, 
silver, bronze. Understand?” 

“ Yes,” Susan said meekly. “ Go on.” 

“ Well, this old customer has a house full 
of historic relics. I know of a chap like that. 
Everything in his house, — doors, mantels, 
everything was from some old and noted place. 
Well, this collector has a secretary. Now I 
don’t mean a writing desk. Please don’t mis- 
take me — I mean a girl.” 


A BLACK SPIDER 


115 


Susan laughed. “ Go on, Joe,” she said. 

“Well, you begin to catch on, don’t you? 
The old chap is telling the young fellow where 
his library mantel came from. It belonged to 
some old colonial big-bug, great-grandfather 
of the girl he was in love with, and of course 
turns out to he the same old mantel. Then in 
comes the secretary with some papers, and 
turns out to be his long-lost sweetheart. Of 
course the old chap has to be got out of the 
way somehow, and then a grand love scene. 
I have just been making an outline of the plot. 
Of course it has to be worked up.” 

“ It’s lovely, Joe! Do hurry and write it. 
But I thought you said the house was in ruins. 
How did they get the mantel? ” 

“ Oh, of course something was saved. You 
see you have to work a story out. I am not 
sure now but this would work up into a 
novelette. They are quite the go.” 

Susan’s admiration was ardent enough to 
satisfy the most exacting author. “ Let me 
tell Holliday,” she begged. “ Please, Joe. 
She will promise not to tell.” 

Joe, after some pretended hesitation, con- 
sented, and it was not till Susan had taken up 


116 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


her history lesson, that she remembered the 
black spider. Of course she must explain to 
Holliday, whatever the consequences, but the 
more she thought of it the harder it became. 
Holliday had spoken so positively. “ I don’t 
like Northerners,” she had said. The gray 
coat from Aunt Emily and the accompanying 
squirrel muff only made matters worse. 

“ I can’t think what has come over Susan,” 
Mother said. 


CHAPTER XI 


A TEIBUTE TO GENIUS 

Though ills we find 

Of many a kind 

Which warn us to be wary; 

It would appear 
The things we fear 
Are oft imaginary. 

For days and days Susan went about at- 
tended by that black spider. She would for- 
get it for an hour and be happy again, and then 
here it came trotting around some unexpected 
corner. She was always going to explain to 
Holliday, but each day found it harder to 
do. 

There was the possibility that Holliday 
would hear the truth from some one else. 
Sophy Idelle, with her “ Miss Philadelphia,’’ 
was a constant menace. That nickname dated 
back several years, when she and Susan used to 
play together occasionally. Sophy was accus- 
tomed to brag about her possessions, particu- 
larly her clothes, and when this became unbear- 
able, Susan, who couldn’t compete with her in 

117 


118 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


the matter of fine clothes, fell back upon the 
fact that her own garments, though plainer, 
came from Philadelphia, and further that 
Grandfather Norris was Director of the Mint. 
Sophy, to whom mint merely suggested red and 
white sticks in glass jars, treated it as a huge 
joke, and something very like a quarrel had 
resulted. Was it not the very irony of fate 
that Sophy Idelle should have revived the old, 
almost forgotten name just now? Susan 
didn’t know what the irony of fate meant ex- 
actly, but it was something Joe frequently 
mentioned. 

“ I can’t bear Sophy Idelle,” she said one 
day, when she and Holliday were on their way 
from school. 

“Why?” asked Holliday. 

“ Well, she said a mean thing to me the other 
day. She said I’d rather walk with a boy, 
when I hadn’t seen Charlie Willard coming 
and only turned out Vine Street to meet you.” 

Holliday laughed. “ That wasn’t so dread- 
ful, Susan. She wanted to tease you. What 
was that queer name she called you this morn- 
ing?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. I mean it was just some 


A TRIBUTE TO GENIUS 


119 


of her foolishness,” stammered Susan hastily, 
feeling dreadfully uncomfortable. And all 
the while she knew she was a goose, if not some- 
thing worse. 

There were so many things to enjoy at this 
time, too, if only one had a quiet conscience. 
F or instance, there was the supper at the Pres- 
byterian Church for the benefit of the Mission 
Band. Miss Margaret’s girls and some others 
were to act as waitresses in caps and aprons, 
half of them with pink and half with blue bows. 
Such cunning caps! Holliday and I^ily were 
pictures in theirs, and Susan couldn’t help feel- 
ing pleased with the face that smiled back at 
her from the mirror, when she tried on her 
own. She hadn’t lovely curls, and her nose 
was not as slender as she wished, but her skin 
was soft and clear and reflected the rose of her 
ribbons, and she knew she had pretty eyes. It 
wasn’t vain to be glad you hadn’t little snap- 
ping eyes like Bessie, she thought. Bessie was 
to play in a duet with her sister in the enter- 
tainment that followed the supper. She wasn’t 
a waitress. 

Mother had been inclined to object because 
it was on Thursday night, and she thought 


120 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


school girls should be limited to Friday and 
Saturday for going out; but Mrs. Willard, the 
president of the Band, begged her to make an 
exception this once, because it was the only 
convenient evening for the supper. 

Supper was to be served from half-past six, 
and Mrs. Willard charged her waiters to be 
early. But when she said half -past six, she 
really meant seven. Promptness was a virtue 
not much regarded in this part of the country 
at this time. She did not expect the children 
to come at six. It happened, however, that the 
Hey woods’ clocks were fast, and when Holli- 
day, accompanied by Gertie, came by for Susan 
the hour had not stmck. 

Susan was ready, and they ran over to Lily 
Boone’s, where Mrs. Boone detained them a 
few minutes with numerous charges to her 
granddaughter. 

“ We aren’t going to get into any scrape 
to-night, Mrs. Boone,” Holliday assured her. 

“ Of course, Holliday, I know you didn’t 
mean to frighten Lily. It was only thought- 
lessness, — taking her into that house. I wish 
she wasn’t so nervous, but she is exactly like 
her Aunt Carrie.” 


A TRIBUTE TO GENIUS 


121 


Anyway, as Susan remarked afterwards, it 
was Lily herself who started the scare this 
time. Her first words as they turned the 
corner where the new electric light swung, 
causing such strange, deep, swaying shadows, 
was, “ Oh, girls ! have you heard about the 
crazy man Bessie saw? ” 

“ No,^ — where? ’’ they asked together. 

‘‘ At the City Hospital,’’ Lily answered. 
“ They put him there for a day or two, and 
Bessie was passing and happened to look up 
at the windows, — don’t you know those 
grated windows on the top floor? — and saw 
him. He had his hands on the bars, Bessie 
said. Her brother Tom said it was a crazy 
man. That was yesterday, and last night he 
escaped! ” 

“ Honestly, Lily? And haven’t they found 
him? ” Holliday asked. 

Susan glanced uneasily behind her. Walk- 
ing on the street at night amid those mysteri- 
ous shadows was lonely business when the con- 
versation took a turn like this. Gertie was 
deeply interested, and was reminded of a 
story she had heard about a lunatic. 

“ He dumb up the porch and in at the win- 


122 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


dow, ’clar to goodness, he did, Miss Holli- 
day, and scared Miss Jane most to death. 
They said he didn’t mean no harm, but he 
thought he was the man in the moon and had 
fallen out, and was trying to get back.” 

‘‘ Dear me ! ” exclaimed Holliday, putting 
into words the fear that Susan had been feel- 
ing, ‘‘ suppose that man should be hiding 
around here somewhere.” 

They arrived at the church in safety, how- 
ever, and the sight of Browinski’s man going 
in with a big freezer was somehow reassuring. 
The supper was to be in the church parlors, 
which opened with folding doors into the 
chapel where the literary and musical program 
would be given. When they entered, the ta- 
bles were all in readiness, but no one else had 
arrived. 

The girls took otf their wraps and Gertie 
helped them with their caps and aprons. 

Holliday was retying one of Susan’s pink 
ribbons when they became aware of a mur- 
muring sound on the other side of the fold- 
ing doors. 

“Listen!” whispered Holliday, holding up 
her finger; and when a person says “ Listen! ” 


A TRIBUTE TO GENIUS 


123 


in a whisper like that, it is apt to make a 
shiver run down your spine. 

They all listened, and presently the mur- 
mur came again, but this time more distinct. 
They caught the words, uttered imploringly, 
‘‘I am not mad!” Then another indistinct 
murmur, followed by a more imploring, more 
emphatic, “ I am not mad ! ” 

“Oh, my land!” cried Gertie. “He’s in 
thar sure as you live ! ” and she pushed Holliday 
towards the outside door. “ Come on, you all, 
quick !---f ore he gets outen thar.” Seized by 
panic away they went, out of the door and 
down the narrow walk pell-mell, straight into 
the arms of Joe Maxwell as that young man 
came in the gate. 

His cheery “Well, I declare! What’s up 
now? ” was steadying. 

“ Oh, Mr. Joe! there’s a crazy person in the 
Sunday school room,” cried Holliday breath- 
lessly. “ Can’t you get a policeman?” 

“We heard him saying he wasn’t mad. 
They always do, you know,” Susan added. 
“ I think maybe they are trying to arrest 
him.” 

Lily as usual could only weep. 




124 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ A crazy man! ’’ said Joe. “ Nonsense! — 
Jackson,” as the janitor appeared on the scene 
in the act of opening the chapel doors, “ who 
is in the Sunday school room? ” 

“ ’Evenin’, Mr. Joe. Why, yes, sir, there’s 
a lady and gentleman havin’ a r^^hearsal in 
there.” 

An inkling of the truth began to penetrate 
the minds of Susan and Holliday, but Lily 
still clung to Mr. Joe, who laughed. 

“ Well, if you aren’t a set of geese,” he said. 
“ Come on. I’ll protect you. We’ll investi- 
gate this lunatic.” 

When reluctantly they accompanied him in- 
to the chapel, there was Miss Julia Anderson 
sitting on the edge of the platform fastening 
up a stray curl and chatting with a clerical- 
looking gentleman. She did not appear in 
the least mad. 

Lily’s tears excited her solicitude, and she 
pulled her down beside her and petted and 
kissed her, till the angel began to be restored 
and to grasp the truth of the situation which 
Joe with much laughter explained. 

Susan and Holliday smiled sheepishly, 
while Gertie in the background growled to 


A TRIBUTE TO GENIUS 


125 


herself something about “ No-account play- 
actin’.” 

Miss Julia refused to see anything so ex- 
cruciatingly funny in it. This may have been 
partly politeness, or she may have seen in the 
incident a tribute to her genius. She had 
never before recited in this room and so had 
been trying her voice, with the clerical-looking 
gentleman as audience and critic. 

‘‘ I don’t care,” said Holliday, “ I think it 
was perfectly natural, and you needn’t laugh 
so, Mr. Joe.” 

It seemed Miss Julia had forgotten her fan, 
and Mrs. Anderson had sent over to ask Joe 
to take it to her. He left presently, to return 
later with Miss Margaret, and Susan and 
Holliday had the pleasure of waiting on them. 
Miss Margaret looked beautiful. The only 
change in her usual black dress was a full 
white ruche. 

The front row of seats was reserved for the 
waiters as a reward for their services in the 
supper room. When it came to “ The 
Maniac,” on the program, a good many smil- 
ing glances were exchanged, for that miserable 
Joe had told the story right and left. But 


126 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


the sight of Miss Julia on her knees, her lovely 
arms raised in tragic appeal, begging the 
jailer to stay and hear her woe, more than ever 
convinced Holliday that there was some ex- 
cuse for their fright. As Lily said, it really 
was heart rendering. 

Miss Julia was enthusiastically received, and 
for an encore she gave by request “ Tell me 
I hate the Bowl.” Tragedy was her forte. 

Bessie’s duet was most creditable to the 
young performers, and there was other music. 
Altogether the affair was a success. 

It was long before Joe ceased to make 
merry at Susan’s expense. “ I am not mad,” 
he would declare, falling on his knees before 
her, until she was moved to retort, “ Well, I 
arrij if you don’t stop.” 

For Story Hour the next day it chanced 
that Courage was the subject to be illustrated, 
and Bessie told of the heroic deed of a young 
English officer during one of the wars in 
India. In a town where the English were be- 
sieged one of their ammunition wagons ex- 
ploded. They had but a scanty store at best, 
and there was great danger that the flames 
would spread to the other wagons, and to make 


A TRIBUTE TO GENIUS 127 

matters worse the enemy turned their guns 
against the spot to keep any one from ap- 
proaching. The lines of helpless women and 
children depended on that ammunition, and 
yet it seemed that nothing could be done to 
save it, when this young officer with splendid 
courage dashed forward, and while shot from 
six cannon fell around him, tore apart the 
burning mass, and extinguished the fire by 
throwing on earth and water. Strange to tell 
he was not even wounded, and for his heroic 
act he was given the Victoria Cross. 

Bessie told the story very well, and then 
some of the others were reminded of incidents 
they had heard. ‘‘ I am afraid we weren’t 
very brave last night,” Holliday said, laughing, 
“ but I think Susan was, the day she saved my 
life.” 

“ The stories are all interesting,” Miss Mar- 
garet said, “ but they illustrate only one sort 
of courage. There is another sort. Moral 
courage, — courage to do what we know is right 
when perhaps we shall be laughed at, or when 
it may cost us something we value. This is 
the highest sort of courage.” 

Susan, who had glowed with pride for a mo- 


1S8 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


ment, was miserable again, and grew more and 
more so as Miss Margaret went on to speak 
of loyalty. She went home convicted in her 
own heart of being the worst kind of a coward, 
s — disloyal to her mother, to her family. Mat- 
ters were much worse now than they had been 
at the beginning. Now she was a coward as 
well as a Northerner. 

After dinner she wrote this note: — 

Dear Holliday, 

I am going to tell you something, and you won’t want 
to be friends with me any longer. I am a coward. You 
said the day we were trying on hats that you didn’t like 
Northerners, and I let you think I didn’t like them either; 
but I do, for Mother and Grandma and Aunt Emily are 
from the North, and I was born in Philadelphia. Sophy 
Idelle calls me Miss Philadelphia. I know I am almost 
as bad a traitor as Benedict Arnold. I will give you 
back your ring, but I am afraid to send it by Robin, who 
is going to take this. 

Sorrowfully yours, 

Susan Norris Maxwell. 


Sad as Susan felt, a great weight was lifted 
from her, now her confession was made. She 
shed some tears over the ring, which she took 
from her finger and put away till she could 


A TRIBUTE TO GENIUS 129 

give it to Holliday, but Mother called her, 
and she dried them quickly. 

Mrs. Maxwell had some Orphans’ Home 
work she wished Susan to take to the Brocade 
Lady. “ I am afraid you are not well,” she 
said. “ You ate hardly any dinner.” 

Susan said she was all right, and went off 
with the bundle. Miss Margaret heard her 
voice in the hall and called her up. She had 
been there only a few minutes when without 
ceremony Holliday came rushing in. 

“ Susan!” she cried, falling upon her, and 
hugging her till she was breathless, “ I have 
been looking for you everywhere. I met 
Robin on the way. Why, Susan, you are the 
biggest — I don’t know what.” Another fierce 
hug. Of course I didn’t mean all Northern- 
ers, but only Colonel Brand. It was lovely 
of you to care. Why, I should love you if you 
had been born at the North Pole, and any- 
way Philadelphia is the nicest sort of a place 
to be born in. And you aren’t a coward. 
You needn’t say you are!” 

“ Oh, yes, I am, Holliday,” Susan insisted. 
“ Are you sure you want to be friends with 
me still?” 


130 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ Susan Maxwell, of course I am,” Holli- 
day cried, and then it became necessary to ex- 
plain to Miss Margaret. 

She was sympathetic and dear. There 
must be truth between friends, she said, and 
because their friendship had weathered this 
storm it would be all the firmer. Susan had 
been a coward, but she added that a remark 
hke Holliday’s was silly and unkind, as well 
as narrow and provincial, and she was glad she 
had not meant it really. 

After that they went to Susan’s and got the 
ring, and Holliday put it on her finger again; 
and the black spider was seen no more for a 


season. 


CHAPTER XII 


FAIR AS A STAR 

So fair, so sweet, she seemed to be 
Herself a bit of poetry. 

Susan established herself in the dining-room 
window to write a composition, but other mat- 
ters, having nothing to do with the task in 
hand, kept claiming her thoughts. The big 
fern looked dry and she must go for some 
water; then it occurred to her that it would 
be pleasant to have Wynkyns for a compan- 
ion, and it was some minutes before she dis- 
covered his hiding place under the kitchen 
stove; then the fire, flickering lazily in the 
grate, called for attention, and the fishwoman 
looked dusty, and finally the postman came 
with some interesting advertising matter. 

She had at last picked up her pad and 
pencil and asked Wynkyns what in the world 
she was to write about, when a rap on the win- 
dow pane startled her, and there was Charlie 
Willard with a message from his mother to 
Mrs. Maxwell, about the sewing society. 

131 




EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ What are you doing? Studying? ’’ he 
asked when Susan returned with her mother’s 
reply. 

“ I have got a composition to write.” 

“ You mean you’ve got to write a composi- 
tion. If you had the composition you wouldn’t 
have to write it. Also, to be elegant you 
should leave ‘ got ’ out altogether,” said Char- 
lie, leaning his elbows on the sill of the open 
window, and grinning at her. 

Susan made a motion as if to put it down 
on his head. “ Thank you for your correc- 
tion,” she said loftily. 

“If you want to know anything, just ask 
me.” Charlie swung himself on to the sill 
with astonishing lightness, considering his 
lameness. “What are you going to write 
about? ” 

“ I don’t know. Miss Margaret said it 
must be something we see every day.” 

“ That’s easy.” 

“Well, what would you take?” Susan 
asked. 

“ Street-car mules,” Charlie suggested as a 
car tinkled by. 

Susan laughed. “ They are funny little 


'' FAIR AS A STAR 13S 

things, almost like rats, but I am afraid I 
couldn’t write a whole composition about 
them.” 

“ A man wrote a long poem once about a 
sofa,” said Charlie. 

Susan nodded. “ Cowper,” she said, look- 
ing towards the bookcase where there was a 
blue and gold edition of “ The Task,” with 
fascinating illustrations. ‘‘ I don’t think 
there is much poetry about it,” she added 
candidly. 

“ Holliday says you know heaps about 
books,” continued Charlie. 

Susan flushed with pleasure. ‘‘No, I 
don’t,” she said, “ but I like them.” 

“ So do I. Did you ever read ‘ Tom 
Sawyer’? I’ll lend it to you. Why, here is 
my angel cousin,” he exclaimed, as Lily came 
in the side gate. 

“ Hi, Charlie ! Susan, have you written 
your composition? I don’t know what to 
write about. Tell me something.” 

“ Ask your cousin Charlie,” said Susan, 
laughing. 

“ Let me see.” Charlie arranged some 
imaginary curls over his shoulder, folded his 


134 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


hands and gazed skywards. “ Stars,” he sug- 
gested. 

“ You don’t see those every day,” Susan re- 
minded him. 

“ That’s a fact, and perhaps Lily hasn’t 
sufficient astronomical knowledge, either. 
How about curls? Lily sees those every 
day.” 

Lily, dimly aware she was being laughed 
at, tossed her head. “ I am not going to do it,” 
she said. “ You are silly.” 

“ Lily’s curls are long and slick. 

She brushes them around a stick,” 

sang Charlie. 

“ While like any pretty lass 
She stands before the looking-glass,” * 

added Susan, who loved to rhyme. 

“ Hurrah for you! ” cried Charlie. “ Let’s 
make one about Holliday.” 

“ What are you children doing? ” inquired 
the person mentioned, coming unexpectedly 
around the corner of the house. “You must 
think it is summer, with the window wide 
open.” 


FAIR AS A STAR 


135 


‘‘ Charlie is in the way, I can’t put it down,” 
said Susan. 

“We are trying to help Lily with her com- 
position,” he added. 

“ He isn’t at all, Holliday. He is making 
fun of my hair, and yours too. You think 
you are very smart, Charlie Willard, but you 
are just a holy terrier. Grandma says so.” 

“ Look here, Lily Boone,” cried Charlie, 
while the other two shouted with laughter, “ I 
am not a dog.” 

“ You didn’t mean terrier, Lily,” said 
Susan. 

“ I guess I know what I mean. Grandma 
said it,” cried Lily, almost in tears. 

“ There she is now,” Holliday said, pointing 
to the street, where Mrs. Boone’s carriage had 
stopped at the curb. “ She is calling you.” 

When Lily and Charlie had gone, Holliday 
slipped lightly in at the window. “ Susan, I 
think I’ll write about the grave of the Wise 
Man, and I want to go around there and look 
at it. Come with me.” 

“ Why, you know how it looks, Holliday.” 

“ But it is different when you are going to 
write about a thing. I want to meditate over 


136 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


it,” explained Holliday. ‘‘ The church is 
open. They are trying the organ or some- 
thing, so we can get in. Please come. I 
have thought of some lovely quotations, that 
will fill up splendidly. Don’t you know in 
Longfellow, ' All are architects of fate ’? ” 

‘‘ Oh, dear! ” Susan exclaimed enviously, “ I 
think you are very clever, Holliday. I never 
thought of that.” 

‘‘ I’ll tell you what you ought to do. Write 
a poem. You can do it, and nobody else can, 
in the class. You won’t need so many ideas 
for poetry, either. Come on, Susan, you’ll 
think of something on the way, and you can 
write there as well as here.” 

Of course Susan went; and as they walked 
along she considered Holliday’s suggestion. 
She rather liked the idea of writing in rhyme, 
and this was what poetry meant to her. She 
did not quite see why blank verse should be 
called poetry. The sight of a policeman 
warning some children away from one of the 
old corner pumps, which had once furnished 
all the drinking water for the town, gave her 
a thought with which she decided to experi- 
ment while her companion was meditating. 



THE WORD ‘SHRINE’ CAUSED SUSAN AND HER BROTHER TO EXCHANGE GLANCES. 


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1S1 


« FAIR AS A STAR ” 

It was dim and quiet in their school-room. 
A strip of sunlight lay across the sill of what 
they called Miss Margaret’s window, but the 
shadows were creeping over the Wise Man’s 
grave. From the church above came the roll 
of the organ. 

Not expecting to find any one there, they 
were startled at sight of a little figure stand- 
ing with her hand on the wooden railing 
that protected the grave. So surprised were 
they that for a full minute not a word was 
spoken. 

Susan recognized Elsie Seymour, for she 
had seen her walking with her sister and their 
governess, and she wore that same plumy hat 
which had so taken her own fancy at Ma- 
dame’s. The face beneath it was rather thin 
and pale, but there was something very 
charming about the eyes and the shy little half 
smile, as she stood there looking at Susan and 
Holliday. 

As might have been expected, it was Holli- 
day who spoke first. 

“How do you do?” she said. “Are you 
looking at the Wise Man’s grave? ” 

Elsie smiled. “ I don’t know. Is that 


138 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


what you call him? I came in to see Cousin 
Margaret’s school-room. Mother and Father 
are upstairs in the church listening to the 
organ.” 

Cousin Margaret ! Yes, that explained 
Elsie’s smile. It was like hers. 

“ You go to school here, don’t you? ” Elsie 
asked. 

Somehow getting acquainted was very easy 
after this. She was so eager to hear about the 
school and the Wise Man, so interested, in her 
shy little way, in everything they could tell 
her, that presently they were sitting together 
on the window sill, outside which the grass 
grew so close, talking as if they had always 
known her. 

Usually Susan preferred to have Holliday 
to herself, but Elsie seemed to fit in perfectly. 
It added to the pleasure to have her gentle 
little presence. 

Holliday explained about the Wise Man 
and the composition she was going to write 
about the grave. Elsie did not seem familiar 
with the story of the man who built on the 
rock, but asked Susan to write down the ref- 
erence for her. “ So I can read it to-night in 


‘‘ FAIR AS A STAR 


139 


my French Testament,” she said. “ I am so 
glad I came down here,” she added. 

‘‘ I wish you could come to our class, Elsie. 
You’d like it, I know,” Holliday said. 

“ I’d love to,” Elsie answered, and the 
thought of it brought a soft pink glow to her 
cheeks. 

The interview was a brief one, for in the 
midst of it a most impressive person came 
through the swinging doors. That they should 
go flip-flap behind her just as they did after 
ordinary mortals seemed disrespectful. Susan 
retired into her shell, but Holliday saw noth- 
ing to be afraid of. 

Elsie jumped up. “ Oh, Mother, I’m com- 
ing,” she said. 

Why, Elsie, what in the world are you 
doing here?” Mrs. Seymour lifted her glass 
and surveyed the three as if they were dis- 
tant and unimportant objects. 

‘‘ I wanted to see Cousin Margaret’s school- 
room,” Elsie explained, “ and Holliday and 
Susan have been telling me about — things.” 

‘‘ I wish you would let Elsie come to school 
here, Mrs. Seymour,” said Holliday, advanc- 
ing. “ We’d love to have her.” 


140 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ Elsie has a governess. We do not care to 
send her to school,” Mrs. Seymour replied in a 
formal tone. “ Come, Elsie,” and she sailed 
away. 

'Elsie, following, smiled over her shoulder. 
“ Thank you for telling me about the Wise 
Man,” she said. “ Good-by.” 

It was surprising, as Holliday said, that 
such a disagreeable lady could have such a 
daughter. “ I don’t know what it is about 
her that is so sweet. Do you, Susan? Do you 
know, I just love her! Aren’t you glad we 
came? ” 

“ Yes, I am, but you haven’t meditated 
much,” Susan reminded her, laughing. 

This meeting with Elsie Seymour made a 
profound impression on them both, though 
they could not explain what it was they liked 
so much about her. Miss Margaret said Elsie 
had always been a dear child. 

The compositions turned out very well. 
Susan thought Holliday’s wonderfully fine, 
and borrowed it to read aloud at home. Joe 
said that if Holliday could only manage to 
practice all she preached she would soon wear a 
halo. Miss Margaret, though she praised it, 


FAIR AS A STAR 


141 


said she would prefer fewer quotations next 
time. 

Susan wrote her rhyme about the pump, and 
afterwards copied it in the red diary. Joe 
suggested one or two of the rhymes, for 
which he was given due credit. 

I’m an ugly old pump standing here on the corner. 
And as the days pass I am growing forlorner. 

My former companions 1 see them no more 
Though many I had in the bright days of yore. 

My old iron dipper that hangs by a chain 
Will never be pressed by a child’s lips again. 

My handle is useless, no one stops to drink. 

And I am left here to do nothing but think. 

Miss Margaret said this was extremely good, 
all things considered, but she thought you 
should learn to write good prose before you 
turned to poetry. 

Susan asked Joe if he thought it was easier 
to write poetry than prose, and he replied 
briefly, ‘‘Not the genuine article.” 

Susan and Holliday rather plumed them- 
selves upon liking poetry, and reading it to- 
gether in these days. In a little blue copy of 
Wordsworth’s poems which had belonged to 
Holliday’s mother, they chanced upon some 


142 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


lines beginning: “ She dwelt beside the springs 
of Dove.” They read the poem through, 
and when they came to 


Fair as a star when only one 
Is shining in the sky ” — 


Susan stopped. 

“ ‘ Fair as a star,’ ” she repeated. “ That 
makes me think of Elsie.” Then after a 
pause, “ Why, Holliday,” she cried, “ that is 
poetry ! ” 

“Did you think you were reading prose?” 
asked Holliday, laughing. “ Wordsworth is 
one of the English poets. Miss Maxwell.” 

“ I don’t mean that,” said Susan earnestly. 
“ Listen — don’t you know how the first star 
looks when it shines out, after the sun has 
set, while there is still some color in the sky? 
Don’t you know how quiet and lovely it 
seems? Well — when it makes you think of 
Elsie, — or anybody, — that is poetry. It isn’t 
the rhyme that makes it poetry. I never un- 
derstood before. It is what Joe meant by the 
genuine article.” Susan was fairly trembling 


‘‘ FAIR AS A STAR ’’ 14B 

with eagerness. It seemed to her she had 
made a tremendous discovery. 

Holliday looked doubtful. ‘‘ I think you 
are getting pretty deep, Susan,’’ she said, “ but 
I do think it describes Elsie.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


ORGANIZING 

Come let us meet and organize, 

In this the greatest profit lies. 

“ I HEAR Colonel Brand has bought the 
Carrol house,” Mr. Maxwell remarked at din- 
ner one day. 

“Christmas Tree House!” Susan ex- 
claimed. “ Perhaps that is why he didn’t want 
us to say it was haunted.” 

“ Why does he want a house like that? — an 
unmarried man,” Mrs. Maxwell wondered. 

“ He can buy anything he fancies,” said Joe. 
“ He is rolling in money, and maybe he is 
going to get married.” 

“ Is he going to live in it, himself? ” Susan 
asked. 

Father looked at the paper again. “ It says 
here that he will probably make it his resi- 
dence. ‘ The Colonel is said to be the owner 
of many art treasures, gathered from the four 
corners of the globe, for which this handsome 

144 


ORGANIZING 


145 


old mansion will make a fitting shrine/ and 
so on.” 

The word “ shrine ” caused Susan and her 
brother to exchange glances. 

“ I hope he will not regret his purchase,” 
Father added. 

“ Why should he? ” asked Mrs. Maxwell. 

“ Well, that story will not easily down, as 
he will probably discover when he tries to get 
servants.” 

‘‘ There must be some way of settling it once 
for all. It seems simple enough. If there 
isn’t a tree there, you can’t possibly see it, 
and we all know poor Mrs. Carrol does not 
keep a lighted tree the year round in that 
room. By the way,” Mrs. Maxwell con- 
tinued, ‘‘ Mrs. Boone says Miss Boss told her 
Miss Arthur was dreadfully worried about 
Aline’s going there, when she found out about 
it. It seems the old lady has an idea that 
Aline resembles her daughter Aline, and has 
taken a desperate fancy to her. Poor Miss 
Arthur doesn’t know how to manage that girl 
at all. When she forbade Aline to go to Mrs. 
Carrol’s again. Miss Ross says Aline replied 
that she thought it was her duty to go.” 


146 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ Aline hates Miss Ross,” Susan remarked. 

“ I should not wonder if that lady were at 
the bottom of a good deal of the trouble,” 
Father said. 

The Colonel took the same view of the 
spectral Christmas tree as Mrs. Maxwell. 
He knew there was no tree in the east parlor, 
hence it followed that one could not be seen 
from the outside. When the Brocade Lady 
advised him to investigate, he refused on the 
ground that there was nothing to be investi- 
gated. 

He often dropped in to consult the Brocade 
Lady, or to talk matters over with her, but he 
by no means invariably took her advice. He 
had become a familiar figure in the neighbor- 
hood, for every afternoon, rain or shine, he 
might be seen walking out Pine Street from 
his hotel accompanied by his big hunting dog, 
wearing a rather detached and lonely look. 
To-day he was standing with the Brocade 
Lady at her door when Susan went in the 
gate. 

She walked up the path very slowly to give 
him time to make his adieus, stopping to pat 
Dan the setter, who waited patiently at the 


ORGANIZING 


147 


foot of the steps. As she did so she heard the 
Brocade Lady say: 

“ And you have no news for me, I suppose, 
Sidney? ” 

To which the Colonel replied, “ My dear 
madam, when I have, you may be sure I will 
let you hear it without delay.” 

Susan wondered what news the Brocade 
Lady was expecting, and then forgot all about 
it, for a matter of great interest was to be de- 
cided this afternoon, neither more nor less 
than the forming of a club by Miss Margaret’s 
girls. 

In these days clubs were beginning to be in 
the air everywhere. Susan heard Mrs. Boone 
telling Mother that in her time women staid 
at home and took care of their families, and 
for her part she considered this club move- 
ment a menace. This did not alarm Susan, 
however. One of the classes in Mrs. Knight’s 
school met once a week in the afternoon and 
made fancy things for an Easter sale in view 
for the benefit of some charity, and Bessie 
Mann’s oldest sister belonged to a literary 
club, which was studying Browning, with Miss 
Julia Anderson for president. 


148 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


The idea had first occurred to Holliday on 
the day when she and Susan went to see Aline, 
but she had decided since then that she would 
prefer a literary club. A diversity of opinion 
had developed on this question, and Miss 
Margaret, who had been consulted, and who 
saw in the plan the possible chance she had 
been looking for to interest Aline, invited them 
to hold their first meeting with her. They 
could bring their fancy work and talk it over 
sociably, she said. 

The Brocade Lady’s father and mother, 
looking down from their gilt frames, might 
well be astonished at the unusual sight of five 
laughing girls in that sedate room. No doubt 
if they could have been heard they would have 
agreed with Mrs. Boone that this club move- 
ment was a menace. 

A sociable fire blazed in the old-fashioned 
grate, and the brass fender and coal bucket did 
their part in reflecting it. Upon the hearth 
rug, on which was depicted a large and sleepy 
lion, after a fashion now gone out, sat Robin 
Bright. 

“ I am going to belong,” he announced, as 
Susan, who happened to be the last, came in. 


ORGANIZING 


149 


“ But you can’t ; you are a boy,” she said. 

“ Yes, I can. I can belong to anything Miss 
Margaret belongs to.” 

‘‘ So you see,” Miss Margaret added, laugh- 
ing, ‘‘ what is involved in inviting me.” 

“ The first thing to vote about is the kind 
of a society, isn’t it ? ” asked Lily, while Holli- 
day made room for Susan on the sofa. 

“ Yes, but suppose we do things in a par- 
liamentary way, and first choose a temporary 
chairman to preside over the meeting,” Miss 
Margaret suggested; and this of course re- 
sulted in her having to take the chair her- 
self. 

She then announced that she meant to be 
very strict, and should insist upon being ad- 
dressed as Madam Chairman. A good deal 
of time was consumed over the first motion, 
but finally, after much laughing and many mis- 
takes, Bessie rose and said, “ Madam Chair- 
man,” waited till she was recognized, and then 
moved that they form a club. Aline seconded 
the motion, and then Miss Margaret said they 
could discuss it. 

‘‘ It is like a game, isn’t it? ” said Susan. 

“ Well, Miss Margaret, — I mean Madam 


150 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Chairman,” began Holliday, “ I think a liter- 
ary club would be nicest.” 

“ Then you can move to amend Bessie’s mo- 
tion by adding the word literary before club. 
Does Bessie accept that motion? ” 

Bessie did not by any means. She wished 
to do fancy work or make a silk quilt, and in 
her eagerness, parliamentary rules went to the 
winds. 

“Quilts! Why, old ladies make quilts,” 
said Aline. 

“ And we don’t want to copy the Knight 
girls, either,” put in Holhday. 

“ Lots of people besides old ladies make 
quilts. Carrie made one, — a lovely Roman 
quilt. But I don’t care, only I want to do 
something, and not just read things and write. 
That’s what Susan and Holliday like to do, 
and I don’t see why they should have every- 
thing their way; and Lily thinks so, too.” 
Bessie’s eyes snapped and her lips closed 
firmly. 

“ Why, Miss Margaret 1 ” cried Holliday, 
“ Susan and I don’t have things our way, any 
more than anybody else. The majority has to 


ORGANIZING 


151 


decide and we are perfectly willing. Aren’t 
we, Susan?” 

“ Let dogs delight to bark and bite, 

For ’tis their nature to ** — 

recited Robin impersonally from the hearth 
rug, where he lay on his back kicking up his 
heels. 

The peals of laughter this caused, cleared the 
atmosphere and brought the Brocade Lady 
from across the hall to find what the fun was 
about. Miss Margaret said Robin was prov- 
ing his fitness for membership in the club. 

The gentleman was extremely pleased at 
the effect of his sally, and getting up, an- 
nounced that there was another verse if they 
wanted to hear it. 

Miss Margaret said no, that would do for 
now, and then Susan’s soft voice was heard 
asking, “ Couldn’t we do both? Sew and have 
some one read to us? ” 

“ That sounds well,” said Miss Margaret, 
and then suggested that they ask the Brocade 
Lady to tell them what she thought. 

When the matter was explained to her, she 
agreed with Bessie in thinking something prac- 


152 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


tical was to be desired, but saw no reason why 
there should not be reading. 

‘‘ If we make things we can help somebody,” 
said Bessie, complacently. 

“ And at the same time he learning a use- 
ful art,” added the Brocade Lady, who was her- 
self a famous needlewoman. 

She wasn’t supposed to have anything to 
do with it, but when Nancy presently brought 
in chocolate and tea cakes this was forgotten, 
and in the end she had a good deal to do 
with it. 

Somebody suggested taking an orphan to 
sew for, and the Brocade Lady approved and 
said she knew of one, or thought she did, and 
if they liked she would have her there next 
Friday, when they could see her and decide for 
themselves. 

“ Would her feelings be hurt if we didn’t 
like her looks?” Holliday asked. 

The Brocade Lady answered with a twinkle 
in her eye that she would guarantee that. 
“ But I am sure that you will like her,” she 
added. 

“ Do you know who it is. Miss Margaret? ” 
Susan inquired. 


ORGANIZING 


153 


Miss Margaret shook her head. She had 
not the least idea. 

Thanks to Robin and the Brocade Lady, 
the first meeting broke up amicably, and all 
the week long, Friday and the orphan were 
looked forward to. 

So interested were they, that they arrived 
in a body on the stroke of the clock, and were 
all presented to the orphan at once, as she 
sat in the Brocade Lady’s armchair, wrapped 
in Miss Margaret’s crepe shawl, — a large, 
handsome doll. 

Few feminine hearts are proof against the 
attractions of a beautiful doll, and when it is 
only a year or so since you gave them up, an 
excuse for handling and playing with one again 
is not to be despised. Aline was the only one 
of the number not entirely pleased. She 
thought a live orphan would have been more 
interesting, but the others passed her from 
hand to hand delightedly, while the Brocade 
Lady explained her plan. 

This was that they should make the doll’s 
wardrobe and then sell her, using the money 
they received to help some worthy cause. The 
work, she pointed out, must be well done; no 


154 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


slipshod sewing would pass muster. Then, 
further to stir their interest and ambition, she 
produced a small gold thimble set with tur- 
quoise. This she off ered as a prize to the best 
seamstress. 

“ We will divide the work as evenly as pos- 
sible,” she said, “ and when it is all done the 
one whose sewing is best in every particular 
shall have the thimble.” 

It was a perfect love of a thimble. There was 
not a dissenting voice as to this, but it seemed 
to charm Aline more than anybody. She put 
it on her finger and regarded it admiringly. 
“ I mean to win it,” she said^ 

“ Why, you can’t say that. Aline, unless you 
are sure you sew better than any of the rest 
of us,” Holliday objected. 

“ I can say it if I please. I don’t know 
how to sew, but I can learn and I’m going to,” 
Aline replied confidently, surrendering the 
thimble reluctantly to Lily’s outstretched hand. 

“If I don’t get it Grandma will give me 
one,” Lily said comfortably. 

“ Bessie is the one who will get it, prob- 
ably,” said Susan. “ She made herself a dress 
once. Didn’t you, Bessie?” 


ORGANIZING 


155 


Miss Margaret looked a little doubtful over 
the thimble. She did not approve of prizes, 
but she could not say so. It was good of the 
Brocade Lady to take so much interest. She 
cautioned them to remember that only one 
could win it, and they must all prepare them- 
selves for disappointment. 

“Well,” said Holliday philosophically, 
“ that isn’t as bad as if four could get it and 
only one be left. ‘ MiserJ^ loves company.’ ” 

“ Why couldn’t we be the Society of the 
Golden Thimble?” asked Susan. 

This suggestion was received with enthu- 
siasm, except that Bessie liked “ Circle ” better, 
and to the rapidly lengthening list of clubs 
the Circle of the Golden Thimble was added. 
The orphan was christened Lenore, and the 
members adjourned to explore the piece bags 
in their respective homes for materials out of 
which to construct her wardrobe. 

“ In one respect Lenore is better than a 
live orphan. Aline,” Holliday said. “We 
couldn’t sell a live orphan, and I think we’ll 
make a good deal of money on Lenore.” 

Bessie was made president and Susan 
secretary of the Circle of the Golden 


156 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Thimble, and the Brocade Lady and Miss 
Margaret were an advisory committee. The 
former presented them with a most beautiful 
model book in which were samples of all kinds 
of plain sewing,— discouragingly perfect, 
Holliday declared,---accompanied by plain 
directions. 

Miss Margaret said it should be inspiring 
rather than discouraging, but advised them, as 
the holidays were so near, to devote themselves 
to practice work till after Christmas, with 
‘‘ David Copperfield ” read aloud as an accom- 
paniment; and to this they agreed. 


CHAFER XIV 


CHRISTMAS EVE 

With merriment the world’s astir, 

The Christmas candles gleam, 

To herald the fulfillment 
Of many a happy dream. 

It seemed to Susan in these days that life 
grew fuller of interest with every passing 
hour, till with Christmas at hand there was 
nothing left to wish for. 

An expressman was bringing in the box 
from Grandmother in Philadelphia, as she 
set out to do a few Christmas Eve errands for 
Mother, accompanied by Holliday. She 
stopped to sign for it, and then to wonder 
and guess about it, till Mother called down 
that it was after three o’clock. 

‘‘ But, Mother, it is the biggest box you ever 
saw! Do come and look at it,” Susan urged. 

Mrs. Maxwell came as far as the head of 
the steps. “ Remember, dear, you are to meet 
your brother at a little after four,” she re- 
minded Susan. 


157 


158 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ We’re going now, Mother. Here, Holli- 
day, you can take the package for Self and 
Son, and this for Miss Tillie’s little sister, and 
I can carry the rest,” said Susan, with a linger- 
ing glance at the big box as they closed the 
door behind them. 

“ Do you know what I am going to do? ” 
said Holliday. ‘‘ I am going to stop at the 
grocery and get some animal crackers for old 
Look-in-a-Book. He ought to have some 
Christmas cheer.” 

“ He’d prefer boiled beans, I guess,” Susan 
answered, laughing. 

There was nothing to suggest the season at 
the second-hand book s|iop, which seemed 
drearier than usual in contrast to the busy 
grocery. Herself was very grateful for Mrs. 
Maxwell’s package and reported Himself a 
little easier if anything. Holliday gave the 
parrot an elephant and a pig, in return for 
which he went through his accomplishments 
in great good humor. Then, leaving the bag 
of crackers with Mrs. Self for Look-in-a- 
Book’s further refreshment, they went on to 
Miss Tillie’s. 

Miss Tillie Flynn, who was a seamstress 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


159 


and went out by the day, lived in a little gray 
cottage, not much larger than a play-house; 
but the little brick walk was freshly reddened, 
and the one little doorstep whitened to the last 
degree, and in the front window hung a wreath 
of pine with a knot of red ribbon. Susan ex- 
plained while they waited at the door that Miss 
Tillie had a little sister who was lame, and 
Mother always sent her something. 

“ I think it would be nice to go to see her 
sometime,” said Holliday, after the package 
had been delivered into the hands of Miss 
Tillie’s old grandmother. 

Now this was something Mother had more 
than once proposed to Susan, but Her Shy- 
ness had not wanted to. With Holliday to do 
the talking, however, it would be different. So 
she responded, “Well, perhaps,” adding that 
the lame girl’s name was Susie. 

They were to meet Joe at Browinski’s, and 
this brought them presently to the neighbor- 
hood of Christmas Tree House. As they ap- 
proached it, it appeared closed and deserted. 
Mrs. Carrol, after selling a good deal of her 
furniture and other things at a private sale, 
had moved the rest to a small country place 


160 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


which she owned and had herself gone, it was 
said, to a sanitarium. 

Colonel Brand did not expect to occupy the 
house until after the first of the year, but a 
middle-aged couple whom he employed as care- 
takers were established in some back rooms. 
Holliday had seen the woman standing at the 
basement door one day, superintending the 
bringing in of a lot of boxes and crates. 

“ She looked nice and pleasant, and I came 
near asking her if she wouldn’t just leave the 
shutters of the east room open one night so I 
could see the Christmas Tree,” she said, laugh- 
ing. 

‘‘ Holliday, I wish you had,” Susan ex- 
claimed, and as she spoke they both saw a 
dark, foreign-looking man turn in at the gate 
of Christmas Tree House. He wore a long 
cape cloak and a large soft hat, and was alto- 
gether very strange, and instead of going up 
the steps to the main entrance, he went to the 
basement door and let himself in with a key he 
took from his pocket. 

“He looks like a brigand! Who in the 
world can he be, Susan? ” whispered Holliday. 

“ Could it be the care-taker? ” Susan asked. 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


161 


No, indeed, I have seen him. He is quite 
ordinary. I really do think there is some- 
thing mysterious about this house, Susan. 
Colonel Brand has gone away. I heard Papa 
say so. To go walking in with his own key, 
that is the queer part of this.” 

As there was no way of satisfying their 
curiosity, there was nothing to be done but for- 
get it, and this they quickly did at sight of 
Browinski’s windows, and Joe waiting at the 
door. Varied and attractive as were other 
shop windows, Browinski’s excelled them all. 

Within, the clerks were as busy as bees in 
a tar barrel, some of them filling candy boxes, 
of various shapes and sizes, as taste dictated 
and pocket-books allowed, from five pounds 
of Browinsld’s best, in a flower-decked basket, 
to a quarter’s worth of mint and lemon stick; 
others wrapping up cakes, — fruit, and nut 
cakes, golden sponge, and Browinski’s cele- 
brated pound cake. 

Susan and Holhday wandered around ad- 
miring, while Joe superintended the filling of 
a heart-shaped box, the destination of which 
he would not reveal. 

“ He’ll have to tell Miss Carry where to 


162 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


send it. Let’s listen,” Susan whispered. But 
Joe tucked his parcel under his arm and 
laughed at them. When they were outside he 
suddenly thought of something and went back, 
and when he joined them again it was with- 
out the heart-shaped box. 

“Did you ever get left?” he inquired, and 
they were forced to own they had. 

Sophy Idelle, coming out of the private en- 
trance, called “ Christmas gift,” and held up 
an ermine muff. “ It’s real and cost a lot,” 
she announced. 

“ It is awfully pretty, but I wouldn’t have 
one of my presents before Christmas for any- 
thing, Sophy Idelle,” said Holliday. 

What fun it was hurrying through the 
crowded streets, with night falling, and the 
lights coming out, and Christmas gayety on 
every side. Their next stopping place was 
the station, for Miss Julia was going to spend 
the holidays in Cincinnati, and Joe had prom- 
ised to see her off. 

The Poet was already there, strolling back 
and forth with a flower box under his arm. 
He shook hands with Joe and the girls, and 
said it was chilly. 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


16S 


The station had its own Christmas story. 
People rushing in and out of the gates with 
bags and bundles, holly wreaths, and small 
trees, suggested returned travelers and happy 
family reunions, and made you think of snowy 
hillsides and village church spires, such as 
Christmas cards portray. 

It could not be said there was much satis- 
faction in seeing Miss Julia off. She did not 
come till the last minute, and the Poet had to 
hand his flowers in at the car window, while 
her smiles shone upon the poetic and the un- 
poetic alike. No doubt she enjoyed it, how- 
ever. 

“ It must be fun to be a young lady and 
have a lot of men come down to see you off 
when you go on a journey,” Holliday said, as 
peeping through the gates they watched the 
train backing out. 

But the great event of that Christmas Eve 
was to come later, when Susan went home with 
Holliday to supper. She had never before 
been away from home on Christmas Eve, but 
Holliday was lonely, and begged very hard. 
Papa might be late, she said, and Aunt Nan, 
who was coming to visit them for a week, would 


164 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


not arrive till nearly ten o’clock. ‘‘Just let 
Susan stay till eight, please, Mrs. Maxwell,” 
she urged, and when Holliday put on that pen- 
sive, persuasive air it was impossible to resist 
her. 

The night was chilly, as the Poet had said, 
and the Christmas fire that blazed on the 
library hearth at the Heywoods’ was very 
pleasant after their long walk. They sat 
down before it to wait for supper, with a 
happy sense of companionship warming their 
hearts, as they chatted about the. good times 
in prospect. 

“ Think of it, Susan, a year ago we didn’t 
know each other at all! I didn’t even know 
there was such a girl in the world as Susan 
Maxwell. Doesn’t it seem very queer?” 

Susan smiled across the hearth rug at Holli- 
day. “ It is lovely,” she said. “ Lovelier for 
me than for you, because you have so many 
friends.” 

“ Not friends like you, Susan,” Holliday re- 
plied. 

Mrs. McCoy came in to say she thought 
they had better not wait dinner any longer. 
At the Heywoods’ they had dinner at night in- 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


165 


stead of supper. Holliday went to the win- 
dow to see if her father was in sight, and pres- 
ently she gave an exclamation. “Susan!” 
she cried, “come here — quick!” 

Susan ran to her side, and Elolliday pointed 
across the broad street, to Christmas Tree 
House, which though farther down was clearly 
to be seen in the bright electric hght. The 
shutters of the corner window were open, and 
there as plain as plain could be, shone a lighted 
Christmas tree! 

“Well, we have seen it for ourselves; we 
can’t doubt it now,” Holliday said. 

“ I wish Mother was here,” Susan said. 
“ It makes me feel dreadfully creepy, Holli- 
day. And don’t you see something moving? ” 

Was there a shadowy figure passing to and 
fro? It was quite easy to imagine it, when 
you recalled Mammy Ria’s story of poor Miss 
Tina. 

Dinner was waiting and they had to leave 
the spectral tree. When, some minutes later, 
Mr. Heywood came in, Holliday told him 
about it and he good-naturedly allowed him- 
self to be taken to the window to view the won- 
der. But to Holliday’s great disappointment, 


166 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


the shutters were fast closed as usual, and 
nothing out of the common to be seen. 

Her father laughed at her and declared it 
was too early in the evening for ghosts, and 
she and Susan must have dreamed it. Of 
course they were very sure they had not, but 
it was of no use to try to convince people who 
had not seen it, of the reality of that Christmas 
tree. 

“ Anyway, I am glad we saw it, Susan,” 
Holliday said as they bade each other good- 
night. “ And on Christmas Eve, too.” 


CHAPTER XV 


IN SOCIETY 

A tiny cot in a big, big lot 
May do in poetry. 

But, put to the test, you’ll find it best, 

To seek society. 

Lily Boone’s party was the event of the 
holiday season. There were other affairs; 
trees, and spend-the-days and luncheons, and 
skating parties, but nothing quite so grand as 
this. To begin with, Lily drove about in 
Grandma’s carriage more than a week before- 
hand, with a favored friend or two, to deliver 
the invitations which Alexander, Mammy Ria’s 
half-grown grandson, carried in a silver tray. 
Susan and Holliday went with her one after- 
noon, and found it great fun. 

Susan felt very important and like a society 
young lady, wearing her best coat and hat, and 
bowing to people she knew on the street, among 
them Sophy Idelle. Nowadays, when invita- 
tions are sent by mail or over the telephone, 
you don’t have this fun. 

16 T 


168 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Susan was of two minds about the party. 
She would not have missed it for anything, 
and yet she was afraid. 

‘‘ What are you afraid of? ” Holliday asked 
incredulously. 

“ I don’t know. There will be lots of 
strange boys and girls,” replied Susan. 

“ Well, they will be just like the ones you 
know,” Holliday reminded her. “ That’s noth- 
ing.” 

Of course it was nothing to Holliday, who 
wasn’t afraid of anything or anybody, and 
didn’t know what shyness was. 

There was to he real music, Lily proudly 
informed them, — not just a piano; and she was 
having a new frock made by Madam Rose, 
with a fabulous number of medallions in it. 
Madam didn’t make dresses, only frocks and 
gowns. 

Aunt Emily, who had heard encouraging re- 
ports of Susan, sent her a pale blue nun’s 
veiling, charmingly made, which did much to 
mitigate her fear of the party. When on the 
appointed evening she stood before Mother’s 
long mirror, she felt glad she was going. She 
wasn’t a beauty like Holliday or Lily, but she 


IN SOCIETY 


169 


looked very nice. Blue was evidently Susan’s 
color. 

What, still primping, Your Shyness!” 
said Joe, coming in. “ Well,” viewing her up 
and down, ‘‘ you really do look very nice, and 
quite grown up. Now I trust you mean to do 
me credit, and not drop your eyes, and put 
your head on one side, when you are spoken 
to.” 

“ Now, Joe, I don’t do that,” Susan cried. 

“ Since when don’t you?” he inquired. 

“ Let Susan alone, Joe,” said Mother, com- 
ing in. “ And don’t sit on the bureau. She 
is going to be my own dear little daughter.” 

“ That’s just what I don’t want her to be. 
Suppose I went to my party as your dear little 
son. Mother Kitty!” 

“ Small danger of that,” Mother answered, 
smiling, as she held Susan’s coat for her. 

‘‘ Now, Susan Hermione, listen to me,” Joe 
continued, “ if you will open your blue eyes 
wide, answer when you are spoken to, and 
dance when you are asked, and act like other 
people. I’ll give you a bracelet with a turquoise 
set in it. Honest I will. It’s a beauty. It 
is in the show-case at Neill’s this minute.” 


170 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


‘‘ Oh, Joe, will you? ” cried Susan, clapping 
her hands and dancing across the room. 

“ Joe,” Mother protested, “ you have no 
money to throw away.” 

“ Now don’t you interfere. Mother Kitty. I 
am educating your daughter. It is a go, 
Susan. I’ll leave it to Holliday to be the 
judge.” 

“ Don’t forget to speak to Mrs. Boone as 
soon as you get there,” cautioned Mother. 
“ There’s the bell ; it must be Holliday.” 

As they crossed the street under Gertie’s 
escort, Susan told Holliday about Joe’s offer. 
Holliday thought it an easy way to win a 
bracelet, and promised to remind her if she 
saw her doing anything to forfeit it. 

The dressing-rooms at the Boones’ were a 
bewildering flutter of ribbons and flounces, and 
at first Susan couldn’t recognize any one she 
knew. Holliday was in the thick of it at 
once, flitting about in her butterfly fashion, not 
caring whether she was acquainted or not. 
When she slipped out of her cloak, she wore a 
quaint, short- waisted dress of some soft-tinted, 
diaphanous silk. Her neck and arms were 
bare and her lovely hair was gathered in a 


IN SOCIETY 


171 


picturesque mass on top of her head. Aunt 
Nan’s taste was apparent in it all. 

As Susan stood watching her friend admir- 
ingly, she became aware of another girl, like 
herself a little aloof. There was something 
familiar about the dark eyes, but it was only 
when the other girl smiled that she recognized 
Elsie Seymour. 

With one impulse they moved together, and 
Elsie asked how school was getting on. Her 
manners were of the simplest, and so w^as her 
white dress, if her father was the richest man 
in town. She made Susan think again of 
“ Fair as a star.” She seemed to know fewer 
of the young people than Susan herself, and 
was clearly glad to have some one to talk to. 

A tall boy stood on the top step when they 
started down, whom Elsie introduced as “ My 
brother Dick.” Susan gave him one shy 
glance, being much afraid of tall boys, but 
Holliday said, ‘‘ I think I have heard about 
you. I know a boy from New Orleans who 
goes to school where you go.” Susan won- 
dered as she saw them talking sociably, how 
Holliday always happened to have something 
to say. 


172 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


After they had spoken to Mrs. Boone and 
Lily, the girls were handed over to Miss Julia 
Anderson, who gave each of them a mysterious- 
looking card attached to a ribbon. Susan’s 
was half a black cat and Holliday’s half a pink 
rose, while Elsie had half a blue sun- 
bonnet. 

Miss Julia, just back from her two days’ 
visit in Cincinnati, was beautiful to behold in 
a trailing white gown and bare shoulders, for 
she was going on to a grown-up party later. 
“ Your partners,” she explained, “ have the 
other half of the pictures.” 

Sure enough, in the other room was Miss 
Margaret, dealing out similar cards to the boys. 
Susan felt a good deal alarmed at the pos- 
sibility of a partner she did not know, and 
Elsie whispered, “ I don’t know any of the 
boys. Who do you suppose will be mine?” 

They sat together on a sofa and awaited 
their fate, trying to look cheerful. Elsie 
talked about Dick, of whom she was evidently 
very fond. He went to a military school in 
the East and was at home for the holidays. 

After a while, Bessie joined them. “ Don’t 
you wish you knew who your partner is? ” she 


IN SOCIETY 


173 


asked, examining Susan’s card. I believe 
I know,” she added. 

“ Oh, Bessie, is it some one I know? ” 

“ I am not going to tell you. I’m not sure, 
anyway. If it is who I think it is, you don’t 
know him.” Bessie fingered her card ab- 
sently. Susan,” she said at length, “ I’ll 
tell you what, — I know who is my partner. 
Aline told me. She saw his card. It is 
Charlie Willard, and I’m mad at him. Sup- 
pose we change. You don’t mind Charlie. 
Please, Susan. It will he a lot nicer for you 
to be with some one you know.” 

‘‘Would it be fair?” asked Susan. 

“Of course; who would care? Ever so 
many have traded.” 

It really did seem a very good plan to 
Susan, at the moment, so she surrendered her 
black cat and received in return a red shoe. 

“ Why, Susan Maxwell,” said Holliday’s 
voice behind her, “ have you gone and traded 
with Bessie? Well, you are a goose, that’s 
all. She is up to something. She’s trying to 
fool you in some way. Yes, I have found my 
partner, or he found me,” laughing, and she 
walked away with a hoy Susan did not know. 


174 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Then presently Mrs. Boone called Elsie 
away and for a moment Susan sat alone in 
her corner, feeling forlorn. But remembering 
her bracelet, she suddenly stood up. Was 
Bessie playing some sort of a joke on her, 
she wondered? Bessie was a great tease. All 
around her surged a gay crowd; new arrivals 
pressed in. Miss Julia was still busy. No 
one noticed her in her corner, and she lacked 
the courage to walk out of it. 

“ I thought Elsie was here,” a voice said, 
close beside her. It was Dick Seymour, and 
Susan was actually glad to have him to speak 
to. 

She explained that Mrs. Boone had called 
Elsie, and Dick said that was all right. He 
was afraid she was lonely. “ Elsie is timid 
and doesn’t know many people,” he added. 

And then they fell to talking about Elsie 
in the most friendly way. Dick had heard 
about their meeting at the Wise Man’s grave. 
Suddenly he said, “ Let me see your card, 
please. I believe I have the match for it.” 

“ Oh, no,” Susan began, but lo ! there was 
the other half of the red shoe in Dick’s hand. 
“ Why, so it is. How funny! ” she exclaimed. 


IN SOCIETY 


175 


“ What’s funny? ” Dick wanted to know. 

“ Nothing, only somebody told me who had 
the other half, and I was surprised,” Susan 
owned. 

‘‘ I am sorry if you are disappointed,” said 
Dick. 

‘‘ I’m not disappointed.” Susan lifted her 
honest blue eyes to Dick, who quite towered 
above her. “ I didn’t care.” 

Dick laughed. 

“ I only wanted it to he somebody I knew,” 
Susan added. 

“ Well, let’s get acquainted and then it will 
be,” her partner said. 

After this Her Shyness began to have a 
good time. Dick was a nice boy, and as she 
went gayly away with him to take her place in 
the lancers, the unhappiness of a moment was 
forgotten. Opposite to her was Holliday, 
laughing as usual, but now her smiles and 
twinkles had some special cause, it would seem. 

“ The grandest joke! ” she whispered at the 
first opportunity. “Look!” and she nodded 
towards the library, where in another set Susan 
saw Bessie and Charlie Willard dancing to- 
gether. 


176 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


She didn’t know what the joke was exactly. 
It was all a puzzle, only it was plain Bessie 
had not succeeded in avoiding Charlie. Holli- 
day was in a gale over it, and so was Charlie 
apparently. “ I am awfully glad you traded,” 
Holliday whispered in the grand right and left. 

It was only after the tree had yielded up 
its burden of gifts — ^real gifts, for Mrs. Boone 
never did things by halves, — and Holliday 
and Susan were sitting side by side in the 
dining-room, that it was made clear. 

“ You see,” whispered Holliday, “ Bessie 
is crazy about Dick Seymour, and when she 
saw your card I suppose she remembered that 
it was the match for Dick’s. We’d all been 
comparing them, you know; and that is why 
she wanted you to change with her.” 

“ But she said it was because she was mad 
at Charlie,” Susan interposed, “ and she 
thought I wouldn’t mind.” 

“ Well, of course there was no particular 
harm in that. If she wasn’t mad at Charlie 
then, she is now, for he changed cards too, and 
with Dick, of all people! Maybe Aline told 
Charlie about Bessie, or he found it out in 
some other way. But isn’t it the funniest 


IN SOCIETY 


177 


thing you ever heard, that it should have hap- 
pened so? ” 

It was funny, but it wasn’t the fun of it 
that made Susan’s cheeks so pink. She didn’t 
at all understand why she had that half- 
ashamed feeling. Was it for herself or Bessie? 
At any rate, she was not sorry that Dick was 
her partner. 

They made a merry little group in one cor- 
ner of the big dining-room — Susan, Holliday 
and Elsie, with Dick and one or two other 
boys; and after a while Lily joined them, and 
then Charlie Willard. Browinski had done 
his best, and his best was something to remem- 
ber. 

‘‘ This is the grandest party I ever went to, 
Lily,” Holliday said, as Dick dropped a hand- 
ful of bonbons into her lap. “Look!” she 
added, “ these have mottoes in them. “ I am 
going to find an appropriate one for you, 
Charlie Willard.” 

“ I have one for you,” cried Charlie, who sat 
on the floor at her feet, and he handed up a 
tiny slip of paper. 

“‘Will you be mine?”’ Holliday read 
aloud, amid great laughter, and promptly re- 


178 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

turned the compliment with, “ ‘ You are too 

young/ ” 

“ I’d like to know how you make that out,” 
Charlie cried. “I’m older than you are. 
Everybody is down on me this evening,” he 
added pensively. “ Bessie won’t even speak to 
me.” 

Susan felt a little embarrassed over the one 
Dick gave her. “ You have beautiful eyes,” 
but she searched among her own collection till 
she found, “ You are very kind,” which was the 
best she could do, and which seemed to amuse 
Dick very much. 

Just as supper was over Joe came in. 
Susan heard one of the older ladies ask Mrs. 
Boone who that handsome young man was, 
and she felt very proud of her good looking, 
popular brother. Joe did look well in even- 
ing clothes. He was going to take Miss Julia 
to her party. 

“ How has my little sister been conducting 
herself? ” he asked Miss Kennedy, who had 
been as busy as a bee all evening, helping to 
keep things going and seeing that no one was 
left out. 

She laughed. “ You need not worry about 


IN SOCIETY 179 

Susan. She has had a beautiful time. I have 
been on the lookout for her, but she has not 
needed any help.” 

Yes, Lily’s party was a great success. “ I 
had the best time I ever had in all my life,” 
Susan wrote in the red diary. She put Dick’s 
motto away in a pretty lacquered box Holli- 
day had given her, along with Aunt Hen- 
rietta’s gold piece and the dainty gauze fan 
which was her gift from the tree. 

Bessie seemed the only one who had not 
thoroughly enjoyed herself. Her black eyes 
snapped ominously, and she tossed her head 
scornfully when she passed Susan. 

“ Why, I haven’t done the least thing to 
her,” Susan said, puzzled. 

Holliday laughed. “ Bessie can’t bear to 
have any one get ahead of her, and you did, 
though you didn’t try, and it was all her own 
fault.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


BY WAY OF ALLOY 

“ To all mortal blisses 

From comfits to kisses 

There’s sure to be something by way of alloy.” 

— Mrs, Whitney, “Mother Goose for Grown Folks.” 

About this time Mother wrote to Aunt 
Emily that Susan was really overcoming her 
diffidence. Miss Margaret’s class and Holli- 
day’s friendship had done everything for her; 
and she went on to tell what a good time 
Susan was having at the skating rink. 

It was all true until that unfortunate after- 
noon when something happened. On Susan’s 
table lay her Christmas books, as yet unread, 
except as she had dipped into them here and 
there and now and then. The bookworm was 
showing signs of becoming a butterfly, Father 
said. 

The roller-skating rink played no small part 
in the pleasure of the holidays that year. 
The popularity of this amusement, which ebbs 

and flows, was then at its height, and Susan 
180 


BY WAY OF ALLOY 


181 


and Holliday, fired with a desire to excel after 
seeing Joe and Miss Julia sweeping gracefully 
around the big circle at the rink, had practiced 
diligently in the Hey woods’ attic. A few 
lessons from Joe, and they were well on the 
way to become accomplished skaters. 

In this part of the country, where oppor- 
tunities for ice skating were few, this inside 
sport was the best that offered. 

“ It is the loveliest fun in the world,” Susan 
declared one afternoon when she and Holliday 
with crossed hands had made the circuit sev- 
eral times, and then dropped down on a bench 
to rest. On Susan’s arm was the new brace- 
let, the sign and symbol, so to speak, of her 
emancipation. 

While they sat there the Seymours came in. 
Marion and a girl who was visiting her, Elsie 
and Dick and Miss Duval, the governess. 
Marion was a handsome girl of seventeen, with 
her mother’s haughty manner. She and her 
friend both had the air of wishing to keep to 
themselves. Elsie, as soon as she saw Susan 
and Holliday, came and sat beside them. She 
did not skate, she told them. Mamma thought 
she was not strong enough. 


182 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Gertie said Elsie had something the matter 
with her heart. She knew a great deal about 
the Seymours because one of the maids there 
was a friend of hers. Mrs. Maxwell said it 
was very wrong and ill-bred to listen to serv- 
ants’ gossip, but with one like Gertie it was 
difficult not to, and then everything you heard 
about Elsie was lovely. She was not hard to 
please, like her sisters. The servants all 
adored her and liked to wait on her. 

She seemed quite content to sit and look 
on at the others, and while Susan was glad her 
own heart was all right, she felt it rather added 
to Elsie’s charm to have so interesting a disease. 

Dick was very polite to his sister’s guest, 
but she and Marion stayed only a short time, 
and then he came and asked Susan to skate 
and showed her some new figures. It wasn’t 
half so good as skating on ice, he said. After- 
wards, while he took Holliday around, Susan 
talked happily to Elsie. 

“ I think you are the nicest girls I ever 
knew,” Elsie exclaimed,— you and Holli- 
day.” And Susan felt deeply pleased. 

After a little, Bessie and Lily arrived and 
put on their skates, and the atmosphere seemed 


BY WAY OF ALLOY 


183 


to change. Bessie had been queer ever since 
the party. 

When Dick and Holliday came sailing back, 
Dick asked Lily, which was the polite thing 
to do, of course. Miss Duval said it was time 
to go home, and Elsie stood up'^ reluctantly, 
begging to be allowed to wait and see what 
her brother was going to do. 

Dick, it seemed, wanted one more round with 
Susan, who, uncomfortably conscious of 
Bessie’s eyes, wished he would not ask her. 
She forgot them, however, when Dick said as 
they went off together, ‘‘ You skate better 
than any girl I know, Susan.” It was clear 
that he liked her, even better than Holliday, 
which seemed incredible. * 

The carriage was waiting for Elsie, and as 
Miss Duval preferred to walk, she took Holli- 
day and Susan home. The Seymour carriage, 
with its beautiful matched horses and liveried 
coachman, was far grander than Mrs. Boone’s. 
Good old-fashioned comfort was the latter 
lady’s ideal. She didn’t care for style, she 
said. 

After this Holliday went away for a few 
days with her auntj and Susan was left with- 


184 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


out her protection. Otherwise what happened 
might have been avoided, for Holliday knew 
how to come to her friend’s defense when 
Bessie’s teasing went too far. 

Aline asked Susan to teach her to skate, and 
Mrs. Maxwell invited her to come to dinner 
with Susan and go to the rink afterwards. 
Aline had been more agreeable of late. She 
really seemed to be learning a little politeness, 
Holliday said- She admired Susan’s Christ- 
mas gifts, and told about her own, which were 
many and handsome. “ I wish I could have a 
cat,” she said, stroking Wynkyns, “ but Aunt 
Adelaide hates pets. She hasn’t forgiven me 
for going to see Cousin Anne. She won’t 
let me come to town alone, ever. She and 
Miss Rogers are always watching.” 

“ Did you tell her you were sorry? ” Susan 
asked. 

“No, I didn’t; because I’m not. I am 
sorry for Cousin Anne because she is alone, 
like me. I am glad I went. Because her 
father and my great-grandfather quarreled 
isn’t any reason against it.” 

Aline could not, or would not, see that she 
owed her aunt obedience, and yet you could 


BY WAY OF ALLOY 


185 


not help being sorry for the child, Mother told 
Miss Margaret. 

Susan found the skating lesson more diffi- 
cult than she expected, for Aline did not learn 
easily, and she was sitting down rather tired 
with her exertions, while one of the regular 
instructors undertook her task, when Bessie 
passed. 

“ I know what’s the matter with Susan,” she 
called. 

“ I am just tired,” Susan replied, but 
Bessie’s significant “ I know, I know,” when 
she came near again, was annoying. 

The third time, Bessie sang out, “ I know 
what’s the matter with Susan! Dick’s not 
here.” 

It would have been bad enough if Aline had 
been the only one to overhear, but there were 
ever so many people about. Miss Julia Ander- 
son and the Poet, besides some girls and boys 
Susan knew. That troublesome color rushed to 
her face, but she retorted quite steadily, “ I 
wouldn’t be so silly, Bessie.” 

Bessie laughed and took up her refrain 
again, “ I know, I know,” and Aline, who had 
joined them, laughed too. “ Let’s go over to 


186 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Browinski’s and telephone to Dick to come 
and cheer her up/’ she proposed. 

‘‘Oh, Bessie! Aline! please don’t,” cried 
Susan, terror-stricken. 

“What are you teasing Susan about?” 
Miss Julia stopped to inquire of the amused 
group. 

“ Dick’s Susan’s sweetheart,” said Bessie, 
“ and we are going to telephone him to come 
and skate with her.” 

The big hall seemed swimming around 
Susan. She heard Miss Julia’s gay “ Don’t 
mind them. They are teasing you,” as she 
swept away with somebody who wasn’t the 
Poet, for when Susan came to herself a little 
later, he sat gazing mournfully at her from the 
other end of the bench. 

“Why should we mind?” he asked, then 
added, “ But we do.” 

It would not have been so bad if Dick had 
not come, but he did, just as if he had been 
summoned. It was natural enough for Susan 
to suppose Bessie and Aline had done as they 
threatened, when she saw him. It was also 
natural for Dick, who knew nothing of what 
had occurred, and was besides a boy of spirit. 


BY WAY OF ALLOY 


187 


to be hurt and indignant by Susan’s cold and 
distant manner. 

No, she was not going to skate; she was 
going home; and this strange, sullen Susan 
turned her back squarely upon him, forgetting 
Aline was her guest, forgetting everything 
but her misery. The Poet was the only spec- 
tator. 

It seemed to Susan she could never, never be 
happy again. Mother was out when she 
reached home, and only Wynkyns was there to 
console her, lying at ease before the dining- 
room fire. Susan dropped down on the rug 
and hid her face in his soft side. Wynkyns, 
aroused to the consciousness that he was ex- 
tremely comfortable, broke into a purr. 

“ Oh, Wynkie, Wynkie,” Susan moaned. 
“ I hate Bessie and Aline, and I want to die. 
Yes, I do. It’s wicked to hate people, but 
I can’t help it.” 

When Holliday returned, having heard 
several versions of the incident, she questioned 
Susan. “ Bessie is hateful,” she owned, ‘‘ but 
you let her see she can tease you, Susan. If 
you would only stand up for yourself. Of 
course she wouldn’t have done such a thing as 


188 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


telephone to Dick. You might have known.” 

“ Didn’t she? ” Susan exclaimed, feeling re- 
lieved for a moment. 

“ Never you mind, Susan, I am going to tell 
Bessie what I think of her. She has been 
mad at you ever since the party, and there is 
no sense in it. I’d be ashamed to let every- 
body see I was so crazy about a boy. It 
wasn’t your fault that you got him.” 

Then Dick didn’t know why she had been so 
rude ! That did not help matters much, Susan 
thought. “It is too horrid and silly for any- 
thing,” she burst out, “ to talk about being in 
love and sweethearts.” 

“Oh, well, everybody does it. You can’t 
help that. You ought not to care so much 
what people say, Susan. It may be silly, but 
it isn’t anything awful,” said Holliday wisely. 

Even to Holliday Susan couldn’t bring her- 
self to own how hateful she had been to Dick. 
No one knew except the Poet, unless Dick had 
told Elsie. Had he? He had gone back to 
school the next day. She tried in vain to 
think of some way by which she might some- 
time let him know how sorry she was that she 
had been so rude. What must he think? 


BY WAY OF ALLOY 


189 


Susan shed a great many tears over it in secret. 

Bessie under the spur of Holliday’s indigna- 
tion made a sort of apology, which Susan re- 
ceived with quivering meekness. To her little 
volume of experience she added the sorrowful 
one of having tossed away from her a pleasant 
friendship because of what some one else 
thought or said. Mother did not know any- 
thing about it, so she did not have to take 
back what she had said to Aunt Emily. And 
after all it was true that Susan was by degrees 
overcoming her diffidence. 

The festivities of the holidays being over, a 
return to the world of every day was in order, 
as Joe remarked. He had been extremely gay, 
but now he meant to get down to work again. 
He told Susan he had altered the plot of his 
story somewhat, and had some ripping ideas. 
To get fairly started he read her several chap- 
ters, which seemed to her quite wonderful. 
She felt certain Joe would some day be a great 
novelist. Susan found she could not go on 
being unhappy when there was still so much in 
life. 

Joe, warbling one evening before the mirror 
as he tied his cravat, to the effect that memory 


190 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


was the only friend that grief could call its own, 
was surprised to have the sentiment questioned. 

“ It seems to me,” said Susan, “ that memory 
is as much an enemy as it is a friend. There 
are some things you’d rather forget.” 

“ Listen to the infant, if you please ! ” cried 
Joe. “ Does she already feel the past a bur- 
den? Does she sigh for the waters of Lethe? ” 


CHAPTER XVII 


SELF AND SON 

The old gray parrot hung head down, 

And winked as at a joke. 

“ Look in a book, — Look in a book,” 

These were the words he spoke. 

“Look in a book; you’ll find it,” said the 
parrot encouragingly. 

“ Did you teach him to say that, Mrs. Self? ” 
Susan asked. 

“No, dearie; my son Johnnie, he brought 
him up from New Orleans, one time. It was 
the next to the last trip he ever took. He be- 
longed to a bookstore man down there. He 
was going out of business. I reckon he must 
have taught him to say it.” Mrs. Self left it 
to her hearers to distribute her pronouns. 

“ Have you a son? ” Miss Kennedy asked as 
she turned over some German books. 

It was a bleak January day, with a prophecy 
of snow in the air, and within Self and Son’s 
it seemed gloomier than usual. Himself was 
sick abed. Herself explained with an apology 

191 


192 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


for keeping them waiting. “ Yes, he had had 
a doctor,” she said, ‘‘ but the trouble was he 
hadn’t any heart. And when you lose heart, 
doctoring don’t do much good,” she added. 

For a second Susan thought it was the doc- 
tor who hadn’t any heart, and wondered why 
Mrs. Self employed him. There was some- 
thing about Miss Margaret that led people to 
speak of their troubles. Indeed, so warm was 
her sympathy that they were sometimes 
tempted to air them for more than they were 
worth. In response to her question Mrs. Self, 
adjusting her fascinator, and resting her arms 
upon a worn set of the “ Lives of the Lord- 
Chancellors,” related the tragedy of Self and 
Son. A poor little commonplace story, but 
touching, nevertheless. 

“ Self,” she said, “ wouldn’t have the sign 
changed. Seems like he’d been that proud to 
put it up, he couldn’t. It was twenty-eight 
years come next Easter. Johnnie didn’t care 
for books. Self had planned to branch out 
and call it the Old and New Book Store. He 
always thought a heap of books, and knew 
right smart about them. But Johnnie was tot) 
lively to settle down to it. He said there was 



THE TRAGEDY OF SELF AND SON.” 



■ /•.. If’ r \ ’■* • r*. . 


/ •«K63|I^‘ . TagM. 

•■' Fc5r ■ — '^v '-t 








•11 



SELF AND SON 


193 


nothing in it. He tried it for a spell, and then 
he ran off and took to clerking on a steam- 
boat. 

“ Self said to let him go, and by-and-by he’d 
get tired and come back. Well, maybe you re- 
member the burning of the United States? 
Though I guess you ain’t old enough. It was 
Johnnie’s boat. Another boat run into it in 
the fog, in the middle of the river one night. 
They told Self and me how Johnnie was real 
brave putting life preservers on other folks 
and not thinking of himself. Self was so sure 
he’d come back, but he didn’t look for it to be 
that way.” Mrs. Self paused to wipe her eyes, 
more from habit than because there were any 
tears in them. 

She brought out a picture of Johnnie, — 
rather a flashy-looking youth, which made it 
seem likely that it was just as well he came 
back as he did with his record of being “ real 
brave ” in his last trying hour. It was not 
much wonder they had lost heart at Self and 
Son’s. 

Having lost heart, they were in the way to 
lose everything else. There was a mortgage 
on tile house, and since the tenant upstairs had 


194 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


moved out they had fallen behind with the in- 
terest. 

Miss Margaret asked who held the mort- 
gage, but Mrs. Self could not remember the 
name. He was a very rich gentleman, she 
had heard. 

What will happen if they don’t pay the 
interest?” Susan wished to know when they 
were out in the frosty air again. 

“ The house will have to be sold, I suppose,” 
Miss Margaret replied with a sigh. 

“ I should think anybody would be ashamed 
to turn two old people out,” Susan exclaimed. 

As she spoke. Colonel Brand, accompanied 
by his dog, turned the corner. He had a mon- 
arch-of-all-I-survey air that was a trifle an- 
noying. Miss Margaret bowed distantly. “ I 
wonder if it could be he? ” she said. “ I hear 
he is buying a great deal of real estate.” 

‘‘ Joe doesn’t like Colonel Brand, and neither 
do Holliday and I. He is cross,” said Susan. 

“We may be prejudiced, but certainly he 
looks cold and hard,” Miss Margaret an- 
swered. 

Nothing could have been pleasanter than to 
walk and talk thus confldentially with Miss 


SELF AND SON 


195 


Margaret in the keen air, with an occasional 
snowflake blown against your cheek. Susan 
felt very happy, in spite of the memory of that 
wretched afternoon at the rink, the hurt of 
which was still fresh. She came very near tell- 
ing Miss Margaret about it, but could not quite 
do it. She got as far as repeating what she 
had said to Joe about memory. Perhaps she 
thought this rather clever. To her surprise 
her companion was inchned to agree with the 
song. 

“ Memory is far more of a friend than an 
enemy, as you will see if you think about it,” 
she said. “ For one thing we should not learn 
much if we at once forgot our wrong or fool- 
ish acts. Memory keeps us from repeating 
them.” 

But there are things you didn’t mean to 
do, — perhaps you did not understand, when 
you did them, — ” Susan faltered. 

“ I know, dear, and I can tell you this for 
your comfort, that all of us without exception 
do things we regret, — that haunt us like 
ghosts.” 

It was difficult to believe Miss Margaret 
could ever have had such an experience, still it 


196 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

was comforting to have her say so. Perhaps 
she had an inkling of Susan’s trouble. Miss 
Julia may have told her something, and she 
knew Bessie’s propensity for teasing, as well 
as Susan’s sensitiveness, for she went on to say 
that to forgive and not treasure the memory of 
the unkindnesses of others to us was a part of 
the digging we all had to do. Hard work that 
was sure to count in the end. 

Miss Margaret’s sermons were always short, 
and this one was interrupted by the approach 
of Mrs. Boone and Lily on their way to the 
dentist’s. Lily very pensive, her grandmother 
very sympathetic. 

Then, in front of Browinski’s stood the Sey- 
mours’ carriage, and who should come dancing 
out of it but Holliday, in her best clothes! 
Elsie’s delicate face, beneath a big white 
plume, looked after her. 

“Oh, Miss Margaret and Susan! what do 
you think? Mrs. Seymour says Elsie may 
come to our club. Isn’t that too lovely? ” 

For the briefest minute a little jealous feel- 
ing crept into Susan’s heart. “ Holliday is go- 
ing to like Elsie better than she likes me,” she 
thought, but it was gone never to return, the 


SELF AND SON 


197 


next instant, for when Elsie smiled on you 
you could no more be jealous of her than of the 
star that made you think of her. 

Miss Margaret was evidently very much sur- 
prised, when Elsie, stepping out, added, ‘‘ If 
you will have me, Cousin Margaret.” But 
however much she might wonder, in view of the 
coldness her uncle and aunt had shown towards 
herself, she had only the warmest affection for 
Elsie. Besides, as she pointed out, it wasn’t 
her club. 

Holliday had been to a concert with Elsie. 
It seemed Mrs. Seymour and Aunt Nan had 
found each other out through mutual friends, 
and also that Elsie’s mother was awakening to 
the fact that her daughter needed companion- 
ship. 

That Elsie was allowed to become a member 
of the Circle of the Golden Thimble was not 
quite the tribute to the make-up of that organ- 
ization that it seemed. Certain words of Dr. 
Thomas’s explained it. 

“ Don’t keep her in too closely,” he had said. 
“ Let her go about and make friends. If there 
is anything she greatly desires, I would grat- 
ify her, — if it is within reason.” 


198 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


The words struck a chill to Mrs. Seymour s 
heart. “ Do you mean—? ’’ she left her sen- 
tence unfinished. 

“ I only mean, madam, that she is, as you 
know, far from strong, that in building up the 
physical we must not overlook the part played 
by the mental. Elsie is lonely.” 

Dr. Thomas was a great friend of the Bro- 
cade Lady’s, and he told her of this conversa- 
tion himself. 

So it came about that Elsie had those happy 
afternoons with the C. G. T. She refused to 
compete for the thimble. “You have your 
work all divided out,” she said, “ and I may go 
away next month. I’ll just make something 
extra;” and she began at once fashioning a lace 
cap for Lenore. 

She fitted in perfectly; the girls all made 
much of her, and treated her like a favored 
guest, particularly Aline, and her interest in 
all that concerned them was inspiring and flat- 
tering. 

“ How nice it is to know about so many peo- 
ple,” she said one afternoon, when Miss Mar- 
garet was detained elsewhere and conversation 
took the place of “ David Copperfield,” rang- 


SELF AND SON 


199 


ing from Miss Julia Anderson and the Poet to 
Christmas Tree House. 

“ And you never heard about the mysterious 
tree, Elsie? ” cried Holliday. 

“ It is all silly stuff, Elsie,” Aline added. 

“ You can say so if you choose, but Susan 
and I know something, don’t we, Susan? ” 

Susan nodded. “ I will tell you sometime, 
Elsie,” she said. 

“ Tell us now, please, Susan,” begged Lily. 

“ Well, Lily Boone, after the way your 
grandmother talked about Susan and me, I 
think we’d better not tell you anything. You 
are too nervous,” Holliday answered, laughing. 

“ Colonel Brand doesn’t like you to talk 
about his house, either,” put in Bessie. 

‘‘ Grandma says there is a ghost in almost 
everybody’s pantry,” Lily announced. It 
was because you took me in, Holliday, that I 
was frightened.” 

Took you in! Why, you took yourself,” 
cried Holliday. “ And what do you mean by 
a ghost in a pantry? ” 

“ I should think anybody would know,” Lily 
answered. 

“ What would a ghost be doing in a pantry? 


200 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


— yet I have heard something like that, some- 
where,” Aline said, puzzled. 

“ Do you mean a skeleton in the closet, 
Lily? ” asked Susan. 

A shout arose at this. 

Lily pouted. “ I don’t care, there isn’t 
much difference; skeletons and ghosts are al- 
most the same, aren’t they, Elsie? ” 

Elsie replied, laughing, that she wasn’t very 
well acquainted with ghosts. The soft color in 
her cheeks told how much she was enjoying 
herself. 

Anyway, Susan said Gridironists, and that 
was a great deal funnier. You always laugh 
at me more than anybody,” said the aggrieved 
Lily. 

It was really through Elsie’s interest in 
them that the C. G. T. adopted the Selfs, and 
began to show them small attentions. It 
wasn’t much trouble, when once you thought of 
it, to run over with a bowl of soup or a loaf of 
fresh bread once or twice a week, and the old 
people were most appreciative. Elsie said 
“ Self and Son ” and the parrot made her think 
of a story-book. 

Joe Maxwell said it was Colonel Brand who 


SELF AND SON 


201 


held the mortgage on their house, and Mar- 
garet suggested to the Brocade Lady that she 
explain to him the state of affairs and ask him 
not to be too hard on the Selfs. The Brocade 
Lady, for some reason, did not accept the sug- 
gestion graciously. “ Do it yourself,” she 
said. 

Miss Kennedy had no intention of doing it 
herself. She did not like Colonel Brand, and 
could not forget certain words of his concern- 
ing her father which had been repeated to her. 
To ask anything that had in it the least hint of 
a favor was impossible, she thought. Yet so 
curiously do things come about that she did 
ask him, after all. 

It was one Friday afternoon, — a freezy, 
thawy, snowy, rainy afternoon, — and the 
members of the C. G. T. were listening with 
eager attention to the fortunes of David, their 
heads bent over their work, when Colonel 
Brand was ushered in by Nancy and left to his 
fate. So absorbed was everybody that he 
stood unobserved for several seconds. 

Miss Margaret was the first to look up, and 
seeing him remembered that the Brocade Lady 
had commissioned her to tell Nancy to show 


202 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


the colonel into the dining-room if he came, 
and say she would be in in a very few minutes. 
She had forgotten it. 

‘‘ I beg your pardon,’’ he said, ‘‘ I am in- 
truding;” and he looked so embarrassed that 
Miss Margaret was more gracious than she 
meant to be, as she conducted him across the 
hall and delivered the Brocade Lady’s mes- 
sage. 

Miss Margaret had been rumpling her hair 
after a fashion she had when she was reading, 
till it was loose and wavy about her face, and 
with her white ruffled apron she was very Peg- 
gyish, as Joe would have said. This was per- 
haps why the colonel looked at her so intently 
from under his heavy eyebrows. 

Susan, who had occasion to go into the hall 
for the handkerchief she had left in her coat 
pocket, heard the conversation. Miss Mar- 
garet, having ushered the colonel in, stood with 
her hand on the door and “ David Copper- 
field ” under her arm, and explained that a 
meeting of a little sewing circle was the reason 
for his exclusion from the sitting-room. And 
then some impulse moved her to do what she 
had declared she would not, and she added; 


SELF AND SON 


203 


“ By the way, Colonel Brand, do you know 
that little second-hand book place on Pine 
Street? ” 

The colonel believed he did, although he had 
never been inside. 

‘‘ Then,” said Miss Margaret, advancing a 
step and putting her hands in the pockets of 
her apron, “ I should like to ask your interest 
in the two old people who live there. I have 
been told you hold a mortgage on the prop- 
erty.” 

Colonel Brand, who was more used to re- 
ceiving interest than giving it, bowed and said, 
“ Yes?” 

“ They are poor and old, and have little com- 
fort or joy in life. Their only interest is in 
the shop, and I believe it will break their hearts 
if they have to give it up.” 

The colonel took out his note-book and pen- 
cil. ‘'Ill speak to my agent and have it 
looked into,” he replied, and Miss Margaret 
thanked him with a lovely smile. 

Susan felt quite sure, as they went back to 
the sitting-room, that the Selfs would not be 
turned out. Of another thing she was sure 
too, and this was that Dick had not told Elsie. 


204 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Sometime when she had a good opportunity 
she meant to tell Elsie herself, and ask her to 
explain to Dick. 

The Brocade Lady found her visitor staring 
absently into the fire. “ What is this I hear 
about a strange, dark man in your house at 
Christmas time? ” she demanded abruptly. 

It was not to be wondered at that the colonel 
looked surprised and did not reply at once. 
When he did speak it was to say, as he flicked 
a bit of lint from his coat sleeve, ‘‘ Except the 
care-takers, there was no one there when I left, 
nor when I returned.” 

The Brocade Lady continued, “ And I hear 
several persons claim to have seen the famous 
Christmas tree that night. I am not telling 
you this to annoy you, but that you, for your 
own good, may run these stories down and 
settle the nlatter. Why don’t you investi- 
gate? ” 

“ I can’t conceive what there is to investi- 
gate,” the colonel said testily. “ There is no 
Christmas tree in my house, I assure you; for 
the present I do not expect to use those east 
rooms, and I shall give orders that the shutters 
are not to be left open, so that no one will have 


SELF AND SON 


205 


any excuse for pretending to see what does not 
exist.” 

The colonel was stubborn; he might have 
ended the mystery in a short time if he had not 
been so certain that there wasn’t any. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 

You will find that you must 
Take a good deal on trust, 

In a world somehow planned 
So you can’t understand. 

On a certain page in the red diary Susan 
has recorded, “ Sometimes when your feelings 
get hurt it is because you don’t understand.” 
The way in which she arrived at this wise con- 
clusion was through accepting Sophy Idelle’s 
invitation to view the wedding cake. 

“ Oh, say, Holliday, you and Susan come 
over this afternoon and see the cake and things, 
and maybe Grandpa will give us something 
good.” Sophy, waiting on the corner after 
school, thus accosted the girls. Like every- 
body else she admired Holliday greatly, and 
paid court to her in various sweet ways,^so 
Joe put it. 

There were times when Holliday seemed to 
like Sophy Idelle. She enjoyed variety in her 
friends, and besides she liked sweet things. 


20*7 


‘‘ FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE ” 

Susan liked them too, and she did not mind 
Sophy so much since she was no longer afraid 
of being called Miss Philadelphia. If Holli- 
day went, she wanted to go. 

The wedding in question was to be a particu- 
larly grand one, and everybody who was any- 
body at all was asked to the church ; afterwards 
there was to be a large but more exclusive re- 
ception at the house. 

“ Susan, I don’t know that I care to have 
you visiting Sophy Idelle,” Mother said. “ I 
thought you did not like her.” 

“ I don’t, so very much. Mother, but Holli- 
day’s going. We want to see the cake. 
Sophy says it is perfectly beautiful. She 
begged us to come.” 

Mrs. Maxwell rather reluctantly consented. 
“ But, Susan, do not hang around the store,” 
she cautioned her. “ It does not look well.” 

It was easy to say ‘‘ don’t hang around the 
store,” but when their hostess elected to hang, 
Susan felt helpless in the matter. But for 
Mother’s admonition she would have enjoyed 
it, for those marble halls had never lost their 
fascination for her. If it was pleasant to be 
there in the guise of a simple purchaser, it was 


^08 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


doubly delightful to have the freedom of the 
place under Sophy’s leadership ; to stroll behind 
the counters and talk familiarly with Miss 
Mary and Miss Carry, and even sample the 
contents of certain candy jars. 

Holliday was in her gayest humor, and her 
laugh rang out, perhaps a little too unre- 
strainedly, for a public place. Tom Mann, 
Bessie’s brother, came in with another High 
School boy, and they stopped and talked with 
Holliday and Sophy Idelle across the counter. 
Susan, remembering Mother’s charge, took ref- 
uge behind a tall case of favors, and wished the 
boys would go. 

Holliday begged to be allowed to wait on 
them, and much merriment ensued. Other 
purchasers stopped to look at her in amused 
admiration. Susan, peeping through the 
glass, knew she ought not to do it. But how 
pretty she was ! And you could see the difF er- 
ence between her and Sophy Idelle. Holliday 
thought only of the fun of it ; while Sophy was 
bridling and behaving like a goose. 

After an interminable time the boys left, and 
Susan came out of her place of retirement. 
Sophy and Holliday were talking to Miss 


209 


'' FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE ” 

Carry, and as Susan approached she heard 
Sophy say in a loud whisper, “ Don’t tell her.” 
Holliday laughed. 

‘‘ Don’t tell me what? ” asked Susan. 

‘‘ Oh, nothing,” answered Holliday, with 
merry eyes. 

“ It is awfully interesting, isn’t it? ” giggled 
Sophy, “ but we can’t tell you.” Her air of 
intimacy with Holliday was very distasteful to 
Susan. 

“You will tell me, Holliday, won’t you?” 
she said confidently, for was not this one of 
their promises to each other? 

Holliday shook her head. “ Indeed I can’t, 
Susan. You’ll know it sometime, but I can’t 
tell you now.” 

“ That is silly,” Susan spoke crossly. 

Holliday tossed her head. “ It would not 
be right; would it. Miss Carry? ” 

“You wouldn’t like it if she did tell you,” 
Sophy Idelle put in. 

“ No, you wouldn’t,” tiolliday agreed, and 
Miss Mary nudged Miss Carry and they 
laughed. 

“ Your mother wouldn’t like it, either,” 
added Sophy Idelle, and Holliday laid on the 


210 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


last straw, and made a bad matter worse, by 
saying, “ The truth is, Susan, you aren’t old 
enough yet to know this.” 

As Holliday was just three months older 
than Susan, this seemed both cutting and ab- 
surd. Susan felt she would never have treated 
Holliday so. She knew they were teasing, 
and she would not have cared if Holliday, her 
own friend, had not joined in. 

By this time the cake was ready to view, and 
in the marvel of its glistening white towers and 
wedding bells, and the tiny bridal pair just 
entering the door below, Susan for a time for- 
got her grievance. Browinski, in apron and 
cap, danced excitedly about issuing orders to 
the men ready to carry it forth. 

“ Veil, young ladies, — dese iss peautiful. 
Iss it not so? How you likes my composure, 
eh?” 

They liked it extremely. Holliday said it 
was prettier than any she had ever seen in New 
Orleans. 

“ Some day I makes one for you. Iss it not 
so? ” the confectioner said, laughing, and Hol- 
liday replied merrily, “ Yes, indeed, Mr. 


“FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE” 211 

Browinski. I’ll engage you now. Don’t for- 
get.” 

When the cake and accompanying dainties 
had been started off, Browinski bestowed a 
cream puff upon each of them, — a luscious, 
oozing affair which it was impossible to eat 
with any dignity whatever. Afterwards 
Sophy Idelle took them upstairs, where they 
met her mother, who seemed merely a plumper, 
louder edition of Sophy. 

The Browinskis’ apartment was very fine, 
with a truly astonishing number of scarfs and 
throws and tidies, painted tambourines, and 
three-legged stools. Even Sophy Idelle’s 
cologne bottles were dressed up in blue satin 
with hand-painted roses. 

Susan went home alone, for Holliday de- 
cided to stay and see them pull candy. As she 
walked listlessly along, her grievance returned 
in full force, and with each step she grew more 
injured and unhappy. To think that Holli- 
day would join with Sophy Idelle in keeping a 
secret from her. 

Mother had a caller in the parlor ; in the din- 
ing-room a pleasant fire was wasting itself on 
the desert air, with not even Wynkyns to en- 


212 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

joy it. Through the bookcase doors old 
friends gave kindly greeting; friends who were 
always the same, ready to soothe and divert, 
and confide their best secrets. Father’s big 
leather chair gave a hospitable invitation; the 
old jardinieres, the silver candlesticks, and the 
bronze fishwoman united in a voiceless 
chorus which told her to forget the tiresome 
outside world and find comfort here. 

Quiet, homey corners are best after all, 
Susan thought as she accepted the chair,»if 
only Holliday hadn’t — The fire crackled and 
purred, and gleamed more and more brightly 
as the twilight deepened. Susan tried to catch 
the rhythm of its song, but it baffled her, till 
she stopped trying, when presently she floated 
away upon it to the border of the dream world. 
From the bookcase doors now stepped odd fig- 
ures, — story-book people, — stretching them- 
selves and exchanging compliments. There 
were Charles the First out of Macaulay, and 
Betsy Trotwood; Lady Macbeth and Robin 
Hood, and presently Sophy Idelle and Colo- 
nel Brand got into it somehow. The Colo- 
nel was insisting that his house was not 
haunted, when Grandpa Browinski appeared 


“ FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE ” 21S 

with a big knife, which he waved at Susan, 
telling her to put on her blue dress, for he was 
going to cut off Holliday’s head. 

Susan felt this punishment was too extreme, 
and was trying to say so, when it all faded and 
Mother’s voice said, “ If you are going to the 
wedding, you must change your dress before 
tea.” 

That was a very grand wedding, indeed. 
Old St. Mark’s was still in its Christmas 
greens, and the lights and the music and the 
handsomely dressed people whom the white- 
gloved ushers seated so ceremoniously, made 
it all as good as a play to the inexperienced 
Susan. Joe was among the ushers, and so was 
the Poet. Across the church Holliday sat 
with her father, and Colonel Brand came in 
with Miss Seymour. Joe took them under 
the white ribbon, giving his arm to Miss Jose- 
phine, and chatting with her as they went up 
the aisle, the Colonel stalking behind. Susan 
decided that Joe was the best-looking usher of 
them all. 

Then came the moment, almost terrible, 
when the music stopped, and then as suddenly 
began again with the strains of the wedding 


214 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


march. The church throbbed with expec- 
tancy. The ushers advanced slowly, two by 
two, and then the bridesmaids, among them 
Miss Julia. Last of all the bride on her fa- 
ther’s arm, a mysterious, spiritualized being, be- 
neath her gauzy veil. Susan knew her only 
by sight, but she adored her for being so beau- 
tiful to-night. She did not remember the 
groom till the service was half over. 

She quite forgot to be stiff with Holliday 
in the interest of talking over the wedding 
next day, and Holliday appeared unaware 
that there was any occasion for stiffness. 

‘‘ I am going to have ten bridesmaids,” she 
announced, “ and I am going to marry an of- 
ficer in a splendid uniform, and have some of 
his army friends for ushers, like my cousin 
Grace in New Orleans.” 

“ Where are you going to get him? ” Aline 
asked. 

“ Get him! ” Holliday repeated indignantly. 
“ 1 didn’t say I was going to get him. Aline. 
That is a very disagreeable thing for you to 
say. I am going to marry him when he asks 
me.” Turning her back upon Aline, she con- 
tinued, “ Susan is to be my maid of honor.” 


215 


'' FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE ” 

Unless I get married first,” Susan sug- 
gested. 

Holliday looked surprised. ‘‘ I thought 
you said you weren’t going to get married at 
all.” 

“ But I might,” said Susan. 

“ Susan wouldn’t walk up the aisle by her- 
self, anyway,” added Bessie. 

Holliday seemed disconcerted. 

At recess she and Susan borrowed a prayer 
book from the chapel and read the marriage 
service over. They were very much im- 
pressed. “‘For better for worse, for richer 
for poorer,’ ” Holliday repeated dreamily. 

When you are thinking particularly of any- 
thing, you are sure to come upon references to 
it. The next morning Holliday whispered to 
Susan; “ I have found the loveliest poetry in 
one of the little blue Longfellows. I shall not 
show it to any one but you. Aline and Bessie 
wouldn’t appreciate it; but maybe we’ll tell 
Elsie.” 

Certainly Holliday did care most for her, 
Susan thought happily. It was strange about 
that secret with Sophy Idelle. 


216 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


The lines Holliday had found were from the 
Golden Legend 

“ In life’s delight. 

In death’s dismay. 

In storm and sunshine. 

Night and day. 

Here and hereafter 
I am thine.” 


They read them after school, sitting in Miss 
Margaret’s window together, with clasped 
hands. The others had gone, and only Miss 
Margaret remained, busy with some papers at 
the other end of the room. The sun shone 
warmly in, and the words on the Wise Man’s 
gravestone stood out clear and distinct, 
“ Who built his house upon a rock.” 


In storm and sunshine ” — 


“ Why, it is just the same with friends as 
with getting married,” Susan thought. You 
go on loving your friends even if they do hurt 
your feelings. They too are for better for 
worse. She felt as if she had been making a 
solemn promise. 

A few days later,— it happened to be Satur- 


‘‘ FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE ’’ 

day , — Susan had a birthday. When she had 
opened the gifts piled up at her plate on the 
breakfast table, she supposed the celebration 
was over. Holliday had said she was going 
somewhere to lunch, and Susan felt disap- 
pointed that she was not to see her on her 
birthday. Still, she had so much to be thank- 
ful for, she told herself, that she must not 
mind this. 

About eleven o’clock. Mother sent her on an 
errand, and when she returned, Silvy, who 
opened the door, said she was to change her 
dress as quickly as possible, for there was to 
be company for dinner. 

Of course Susan suspected it had something 
to do with her birthday, particularly when she 
found her blue dress laid out on the bed. She 
slipped into it and tied her blue ribbons in a 
happy state of excitement. 

She heard a murmur of voices as she de- 
scended the stairs, and when she opened the 
parlor door, with a sudden feeling of timidity, 
she released a chorus of greetings. It 
seemed quite impossible that five throats could, 
otherwise unaided, produce such a volume of 
sound. 


218 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Above all the rest Holliday could be heard, 
saying, “ You didn’t ask me where I was go- 
ing, Susan. If you had, I should have said, 
‘ To Elsie’s,’ because I was going by for her.” 

The table in the dining-room, to which they 
were presently summoned, was beautiful with 
lighted candles, a centerpiece of pink roses, 
and Mother’s prettiest china and silver. 

At each plate was a card with a flower 
painted on it, and the name of the one for 
whom it was meant. Lily had her name 
flower, Bessie a tulip. Aline carnations, Holli- 
day a red rose, Elsie violets, Susan daisies. 

In the kitchen was Mammy Ria, which is 
all that need be said about the lunch, and 
Mother and Miss Margaret peeped through 
the pantry door at the merry party, while 
Silvy went back and forth. When at length 
the cake appeared with its thirteen lighted 
candles, after Silvy followed Robin Bright, 
looking very eager. Robin had a way of 
scenting parties. 

“ Merry Christmas, Susan,” he cried. 
“May I have some ice cream, please?” 

He was given a place of honor beside the 
hostess, and allowed to take his turn at blowing 


‘‘FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE” 219 

out the candles, and when everybody had set- 
tled down to the business in hand, Holliday 
said, ‘‘ Susan, do you remember the secret 
Sophy Idelle wouldn’t tell you? Well, this is 
it. The cake. Miss Carry told us your 
mother ordered it. You see you weren’t old 
enough to know it, were you? ” 

So this time the “ worse ” had been largely in 
her own imagination. Now she knew all 
about it, it seemed a very harmless bit of teas- 
ing. This is how Susan came to make that 
entry in the red diary. 


CHAPTER XIX 


AMONG OTHER THINGS 

However practical your bent, 

You need a little sentiment. 

Holliday was late at school one morning, 
and as she took her place she seemed different 
from her usual self. The sparkle was gone; 
she was at one moment a languid, at the next 
a tragic Holliday, and her eyes showed traces 
of tears. Susan regarded her with concern. 
It was as if some great barrier had risen up 
between them. 

Holliday, however, was not one to keep her 
sorrows locked in her own heart indefinitely. 
After school, while they lingered a little till 
Lily and Bessie were some distance ahead, she 
burst out with, Oh, Susan, I have had the 
most terrible time! I shall never get over it. 
I wish I were dead.” 

Susan’s imagination failed her. What 
could the trouble be? She squeezed Holli- 
day’s hand sympathetically, and waited for 
enlightenment. 


AMONG OTHER THINGS 221 

“ Papa is simply raging, Susan. He said 
dreadful things to me,” Holliday went on. 

This was astonishing, indeed, for if ever an 
indulgent parent existed, it was Mr. Hey- 
wood. 

“Why, Holliday, what have you done?” 
Susan asked, aghast. 

“ It all comes of going to see Sophy Idelle 
that afternoon,” wailed Holliday. “ I am 
sure I don’t care a cent for Sophy, and I wish 
I’d never seen Browinski’s.” 

By slow degrees the facts came out. An 
acquaintance of Mr. Heywood’s, meeting him, 
had remarked, “ By the way, Heywood, I saw 
that pretty daughter of yours selling candy 
over Browinski’s counter. If they regularly 
employ her, I prophesy a boom in the busi- 
ness.” Shocked and astonished, Mr. Hey- 
wood sought an explanation from his child. 

“ Do you think it was so perfectly dreadful, 
Susan?” Holliday asked. “I know you 
wouldn’t have done it, but it was just fun.” 

Susan hesitated. “ I don’t suppose I should 
have thought about it at all, only Mother said 
not to hang around the store, — that it wasn’t 


nice. 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


222 

“ And that was why you hid behind the 
showcase! Why didn’t you tell me, Susan? 
I suppose if I had a mother, I wouldn’t have 
done it. Papa said it was a bold-faced 
thing. Think of his saying that 1 ” 

‘‘ But, Holliday, you weren’t like Sophy 
Idelle, — not a bit. She was — silly, dread- 
fully.” 

“ It is very good of you to say so,” Holli- 
day spoke with extreme meekness. “ Papa 
wanted to know if you were there, and when I 
said you were behind the showcase, he said you 
were too much of a lady. And Susan, I am 
not allowed to go to Browinski’s for a month, 
and not anywhere except to school, for a week, 
and really I thought he was going to say only 
bread and water to eat.” Holliday giggled 
excitedly. “ It was bad enough to have him 
scold me, but when he began to blame himself 
and say he ought to have sent me to boarding 
school, only he was selfish, and I was all he 
had, — that made me cry like everything.” 

Susan was very sorry for her friend, and 
when, after hearing the story Mother said, “ I 
think it is partly your fault, Susan, for if you 
had said plainly that you were told not to stay 


AMONG OTHER THINGS 




in the store, Sophy would have taken you up- 
stairs,” she gladly accepted a share of the 
blame. 

The keenness of her father’s displeasure be- 
wildered Holliday. Like many seemirtgly 
easy-going persons, when he was stirred to 
wrath it was deeply, and now it was in pro- 
portion to his fondness for her and his pride 
in her beauty and brightness. 

“ Of course it was wrong, I suppose, but it 
wasn’t breaking one of the Ten Command- 
ments,” she said to Miss Margaret, for nat- 
urally it was talked over with her. 

“ The moral law is not the only law,” Miss 
Margaret replied, smiling. “ There is what 
we know as convention, established usage, a 
sort of unwritten law that grows out of general 
opinion and feeling about certain things. 
It is generally founded in real wisdom, 
and to defy it needlessly is dangerous and 
foolish. Good manners come under this head. 
The general opinion is that persons of refine- 
ment and self-respect will not do anything to 
attract attention to themselves in public places. 
You did it thoughtlessly, but you have learned 
your lesson, I am sure.” Miss Margaret 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 

caressed the bright head that leaned against 
her shoulder. 

Holliday sighed. ‘‘ I think life is very 
hard,” she said. “ It was only fun.” 

People are different in this world. It 
astonished Susan that after the first tragic mo- 
ments were over, Holliday could laugh about 
her punishment, could refer to it frankly be- 
fore people. “ I can’t go to Browinski’s, you 
know, because I sold some candy to Tom 
Mann, just for fun. Papa won’t let me.” 
In her place Susan wouldn’t have mentioned it 
for the world. Y^et, strangely, it seemed to 
add to Holliday’s charm. She was laughed 
at and petted and admired all the more. The 
Brocade Lady was right when she said there 
was always applause for Holliday. But then 
she was such a dear ! 

It was on the occasion of this conversation 
with Miss Margaret that Holliday discov- 
ered that heart-shaped box on her dressing 
table. Up to this time, lovely as she was. Miss 
Kennedy had been to them merely one set 
apart to be their teacher and friend; but now, 
as Holliday told Susan about it, they suddenly 
saw her in a new light. 


AMONG OTHER THINGS 225 

“ She told me to go up to her room and 
wait for her, and to amuse myself, so you 
don’t think I was meddlesome, do you? On 
her work table was the prettiest little poetry 
book, and on the fly leaf was, ‘ Miss Peggy, 
from J. M.’ ” 

Susan understood. She had almost forgot- 
ten Peggy and the pink sunbonnet, but now 
she recalled it and told Holliday. 

“Mr. Joe and Miss Margaret! Oh, 
goody!” cried Holliday, hugging her knees 
ecstatically. 

Susan had come over to console the prisoner 
and spend the afternoon, and they were in- 
dulging in the most unconventional attitudes 
on the big divan in the library, public opinion 
not being present to criticise them. 

“ I wonder if she — ? ” Susan began, tucking 
a rose-colored pillow behind her head. 

“ Why, Susan Maxwell, of course she does 
^ — like him, do you mean? Why, Mr. Joe 
is a perfect dear! I’d like to marry him my- 
self.” 

“ Then you would be my sister. How 
funny! Do you know, Holliday, I believe Joe 
has been reading the story to Miss Margaret. 


226 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


A number of times I have seen him going out 
after tea with a roll of something in his over- 
coat pocket.” 

And so they went on to construct a ro- 
mance. “No love stories while school is go- 
ing on,” was Miss Margaret’s rule, hut it could 
not be very well applied to real live ones. 

The wedding mentioned in the last chapter 
had fanned their interest in things sentimental, 
and on every hand fuel was to be had to feed 
the flame. There were Miss Julia Anderson 
and the Poet, who certainly carried his heart 
on his sleeve, and who had a rival in a Chicago 
man. Then Bessie’s cousin lost her lover and 
put on black for him. Here was another 
phase of the subject. 

“ I shouldn’t want everybody to know my 
lover had died, would you?” Susan asked. 
It seemed to her rather courting observation 
on the part of Bessie’s cousin, and yet she en- 
joyed playing the part of observer. 

“ Why, yes, I should,” Holliday answered. 
“ I think you are funny about not liking to 
tell things, Susan.” 

Susan felt that very probably she was, but 
she couldn’t help it. 


AMONG OTHER THINGS 


m 

Joe was much like Holliday in not keeping 
either his joy or sorrow to himself. “ Say, 
Susie—” he began one evening, finding her 
sitting alone in the firelight, and dropping 
down beside her. Then for some moments he 
got no further. 

Of late Susan had taken to dreaming in 
the firelight, instead of having a light the min- 
ute night began to fall and going on with 
some book. Well? ” she inquired. 

‘‘ I want to ask you something.” Joe lifted 
her hand and rubbed his prickly cheek against 
it. ‘‘Does old Bright hang around much?” 

“Why, Joe, do you mean our Mr. Bright? 
Aren’t you ashamed! Why, no. That is — ^ 
why, yes, he is there sometimes. At school, 
you mean? Pretty often, I guess. He has 
things to do at the church.” 

“ Oh, I understand,” said Joe ironically. 

So here was the rival necessary in every sat- 
isfactory love story! 

“ But Joe, I think,” Susan began with a sis- 
terly desire to console and encourage, “ — that 
is, I imagine, he comes to see how Robin is 
getting on. ” 

“ All I have to say to that, Susie, is that 


228 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

your imagination does you credit,” said Joe. 

Susan only half took in the compliment. She 
was thinking. Mr. Bright! It had never oc- 
curred to any of them. Yet he certainly was 
there rather often about closing time, now she 
thought of it. ‘‘ Isn’t he pretty old? ” she 
asked. 

“Not much more than thirty,” Joe an- 
swered gloomily. “ Women have the greatest 
fancy for preachers, somehow.” 

Susan’s heart seemed beating out loud, as 
she said very low, “ But I am sure she likes 
you best, Joe.” 

Perhaps this opinion had no very firm foun- 
dation, but Joe found it comforting. “You 
are a good little Susie,” he said, patting the 
hand he still held. 

The Brocade Lady’s eyes were also being 
opened about this time. Was there any dan- 
ger of Margaret’s falling in love with Joe 
Maxwell? was the way she put it. She was 
not blind to his attractions. He had good 
manners and was amusing, she allowed, but 
when Margaret added “ generous and whole- 
souled,” she demurred. “ Mr. Joseph Max- 
well has yet to prove himself,” she said. 


AMONG OTHER THINGS 229 

When one is lonely and sad, a big, kindly, 
sympathetic friend is not to be scorned, and 
flowers and candy and books help to brighten 
the way. Joe’s strongest appeal was, how- 
ever, by means of his story. Margaret had 
dreams of writing herself, and it pleased her 
to think she could help some one else by advice 
and criticism. 

As for the rector, the Brocade Lady liked 
him very much, yet she was not sure he was 
clever enough for her Margaret. 

On the fourteenth of February, which came 
in about this time, Holliday and Lily each had 
a valentine postmarked from the Eastern town 
where Dick Seymour went to school. Susan 
tried not to care, but she wasn’t very success- 
ful. 

That same day Miss Margaret received a 
note from Colonel Brand. Whether he meant 
it for a valentine or not, he didn’t say, but it 
was most satisfactory as far as it went, for it 
assured Miss Kennedy that an arrangement 
would be made by which the Selfs should have 
their present home undisturbed so long as they 
needed it, and was signed, “ Very respectfully 
yours, Sidney M. Brand.” 


CHAPTER XX 


ELSIE 

“ The memory of what has been.” 

— Wordsworth, 

“ Wouldn’t it be fun to take Lenore to see 
Susie Flynn when she gets clothes enough? 
It was Elsie who made this suggestion as she 
slipped a little skirt over the doll’s head. 
Lenore had to endure frequent tryings-on. 

“ You know,” she continued, “ Aline and I 
went to see her yesterday and took her some 
picture books. We told her about the doll and 
she was awfully interested. Wasn’t she. 
Aline? ” 

“ That’s a lovely idea, Elsie,” said Holli- 
day; and Susan added; “ Of course, when you 
can’t go anywhere, even a doll makes a pleas- 
ant variety.” 

“ Even a doll! ” repeated Bessie, “ as if she 
wasn’t the grandest doll in the world! ” 

Having adopted the Selfs, the C. G. T’s. 
had gone a few doors farther along and taken 

230 


ELSIE 


231 


in Susie Flynn. She was a dear little girl 
about ten years old, with a bright face and an 
eager mind, but through some spinal trouble 
unable to walk a step. 

To Elsie it had been a great event when 
with much hesitation her mother had at length 
consented to her going to see Susie. Mrs. 
Seymour didn’t like to have Elsie go into 
strange places that might not be clean, and to 
the musty, dusty atmosphere of Self and Son’s 
she had some reason to object; but the Flynns’ 
cottage was another matter, and having been 
convinced of this she gave in, only stipulating 
that Miss Duval, the governess, should go with 
the girls. 

If Elsie did not grow stronger, she was 
brighter and happier in these days. “ I love 
people,^all sorts of people,” she explained, to 
the bewilderment of, her father and mother. 
That their darling youngest child should have 
such tastes was perplexing indeed, to their ex- 
clusive souls. They were inclined to lay the 
blame upon that objectionable little school 
which Margaret Kennedy had opened at their 
very door. 

The Circle agreed that so soon as the stage 


232 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


of Lenore’s wardrobe warranted, they would 
in a body take her to see Susie Flynn, and this 
gave them an added incentive to work hard. 

The next Friday afternoon Elsie did not 
come to the meeting, and Lily said Mrs. Sey- 
mour told her grandmother they were going to 
take her away. This announcement created 
consternation. They had grown so fond of 
Elsie. 

Miss Margaret was a charmer in her way, 
and Holliday in her’s, but Elsie’s way was dif- 
ferent from either. Her faculty for forget- 
ting herself in her interest in what others were 
doing or saying was unusual. All these new 
friends of hers were perhaps dimly conscious 
of something which lay like the thinnest of 
veils between her and them, and made her dif- 
ferent. This something, which could not be 
defined, had its eff ect upon them all, especially 
Aline. 

“ Aline is just crazy about her,” Holliday 
said. 

We all are,” Susan added. 

“ When you try to tell people about Elsie, 
it sounds goody-goody,” Holliday continued, 
“ and she isn’t a bit.” 


ELSIE 


233 


‘‘ I do think she is better than we are, but it 
seems as if she didn’t have to try,” Susan said 
with a sigh. ^ 

Probably there was no more goodness, no 
stronger desire for truth and purity in Elsie’s 
heart than in the hearts of the others, but the 
light within her shone out more clearly, because 
it was undimmed by an imperious self that 
must be always asserting its own importance. 
However it was, she brought out the best in 
her friends. Aline’s sharp speeches were less 
frequent when she was there, Bessie did not 
brag so much, Lily forgot to whine and Susan 
to be self-conscious. 

They did not take Elsie away. Instead, a 
celebrated physician from New York came to 
see her. This seemed alarming, but the next 
day when they came out of school, she was at 
her window and waved to Susan and Holliday. 
After this almost every day they would see 
her delicate little face peeping out from be- 
tween the lace curtains and watching for them. 
They began to be reassured. The great New 
York doctor must be helping her. 

She did not get strong enough to come back 
to the Circle, however, but one day Miss Mar- 


234 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


garet brought word that Elsie wished to see 
them all and her mother thought they might 
come, one or two at a time, for half an hour. 

She had just returned from the Seymours’, 
where she had gone upon her aunt’s request, in 
response to Elsie’s wish. Margaret had 
thought she would never again enter her 
uncle’s door, he had spoken so unkindly of her 
father and so harshly resented her determina- 
tion to support herself, but she could not re- 
fuse Elsie. No one could, — not even her ar- 
rogant father. 

Susan had never been in the Seymours’ 
house, and when it came to be her turn and 
Holliday’s to go, she rather shrank. She 
hoped they would not see Mrs. Seymour or 
Marion. She felt herself a very small mouse 
indeed as they went up the beautiful winding 
staircase, with its broad, shallow steps. Miss 
Duval, who was not alarming, leading the way. 
Holliday, of course, did not feel so at all. 

At sight of Elsie all embarrassment was for- 
gotten, for though she was on a couch with 
pillows about her she did not look very ill. 
She held out both hands to them, and was very 
happy over their coming. She wished to 



“SHE WAS VERY HAPPY OVER THEIR COMING.” 


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ELSIE 


235 


know how Lenore’s wardrobe was progressing, 
and was quite sure she would be well enough to 
go with them when they were ready to take her 
to see Susie Flynn. 

Only two days later, one Saturday morning, 
Holliday came running in with a strange ex- 
citement shining in her eyes. “ Oh, Susan, 
Elsie is dead ! ” she cried. ‘‘ She died early this 
morning.” Tears gathered in Holliday’s 
eyes and overflowed. ‘‘ Think of it, Susan! ” 

Susan looked at her in a dazed, uncompre- 
hending way. It could not be true. Why, 
Elsie had been talking to them only day be- 
fore yesterday. She had promised to go with 
them to Susie’s. It was incredible. 

Death had never before come so near Susan. 
Holliday was more familiar with it. She could 
talk about it, and about Elsie, but Susan was 
silent before the great mystery. 

Life went on just the same; there were 
lessons and other duties, but through them all 
Holhday’s words, “ Elsie is dead,” kept re- 
peating themselves. 

That afternoon she and Holhday had occa- 
sion to pass the Seymours’. The blind was 
down in Elsie’s window, from which she had 


2S6 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


waved to them so lately, and on the door, from 
beneath a wreath of roses, something soft and 
white fluttered gently in the breeze. 

At the next corner they met Sophy Idelle, 
who remarked bluntly, “ Say, Elsie Seymour 
is dead, isn’t she? ” 

Holliday replied, “ Yes,” and they turned 
away. What had Sophy Idelle to do with 
Elsie? 

Mrs. Seymour wished Elsie’s friends to 
come to the service, which was held at the house. 
Aline refused to go. She couldn’t bear fu- 
nerals, she said. Mrs. Boone was to take 
Bessie and Lily, so Holliday and Susan went 
with Miss Margaret. 

There was something strange about the fa- 
miliar street as they walked along it that morn- 
ing. At the Seymours’ the door opened 
softly, as if by magic, to admit them, and the 
wide hall was full of a mysterious quiet, min- 
gled with the odor of flowers. The solemnity 
was like a weight upon them. 

They went into the drawing-room, where 
there were chairs arranged in rows, and sat 
down, but presently Miss Duval came in and 
spoke to Miss Margaret, who rose and mo- 


ELSIE 


£37 


tioned to Susan and Holliday to follow her. 
They passed through the open doors into the 
next room, where there were more flowers. 
Susan, bewildered by the dim light and the 
strangeness, did not at first understand when 
they paused before something long and white. 
Holliday clasped her hand, and some one 
opened a shutter, letting in a ray of sunlight. 
Then she saw. 

Ah, the wonder and beauty of it! The dark 
lashes on the white cheek, the peaceful smile, 
the perfect rest there among the flowers. If 
this were death, it was not terrible at all. 
Susan’s heart almost burst with a longing she 
did not understand. She wished she might 
look forever, but Miss Margaret led the way 
back to the drawing-room. 

People came in softly and took seats, till the 
room was filled, then out of the mysterious 
hush rose the words, ‘‘ I am the resurrection 
and the life.” Susan’s throat ached, but she 
did not cry, as Holliday did. Some one in 
front of her moved and for a minute she saw 
Dick’s face, set and stern. It caused her a 
pang. She had wanted to tell Elsie, and now 
it was too late. This was a new and terrible 


238 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


thought, — that it could be too late to explain 
things. And now her own tears fell. 

“ For we know,” the voice went on, ‘‘ that if 
'our earthly house of this tabernacle be dis- 
solved, we have a building of God, an house not 
made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” 

The triumphant words stirred the flower- 
scented air. “ For we know,” — they linked 
themselves with the story of the Wise Man. 
“ Whosoever heareth these sayings of mine and 
doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man 
who built his house upon a rock.” 

Elsie’s house had been built of gentle words 
and deeds. It had not had to endure any 
hard storms, yet it had its own beautiful mean- 
ing, its own part in the great plan. 

It was over, and they were out in the sun- 
shine again. That strange, unreal sunshine. 
In front of them walked Colonel Brand with 
the Brocade Lady. ‘‘ Faith has a logic of its 
own, Sidney,” she was saying. “ It looks not 
upon the things that are seen, but upon the 
things that are unseen.” 

A little farther on Sophy Idelle joined 
them. She regarded them enviously and 
wanted to hear about the funeral. 

“ Sophy Idelle,” Holliday said, “ Susan and 


ELSIE 239 

I don’t want to talk to you about Elsie. You 
didn’t know her.” 

Sophy was indignant. “ I don’t see what 
makes you so touchy,” she cried. “ She wasn’t 
any kin of yours.” 

At Holliday’s gate they met Robin. 
“Hello! Susan. Hello! Holliday,” he said. 
“ Did you know Elsie has gone to heaven? ” 
and he added wistfully, “ Say, don’t people 
ever come back from heaven? — not ever?” 

They didn’t mind Robin as they did Sophy 
Idelle, but it seemed to them they could never 
again be anything but grave. 

“ I wonder if we shall live to be grown, 
Susan? ” Holliday said. “ Sometimes T think 
I shan’t. If anything happens to me, I want 
you to have my diamond ring.” 

“Oh, Holliday!” cried Susan, whose 
thought had been following the same path, 
“ I’d much rather not have you die. If you 
do, I want to die too.” 

They did not forget Elsie, but the very next 
day life began to move on in the same old way 
and they were soon as merry as before. To 
remember does not necessarily mean to be sad. 

At school they often talked about her, all of 
them but Aline. 


MO 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ Sometimes I think she is sorrier about 
Elsie than any of us,” Susan remarked. 

“ Do you suppose it is that that makes her 
so cross?” asked Holliday. 

It was true; Aline was in these days more 
difficult than ever. 

Elsie’s death had its effect upon them all. 
Bit by bit they were each accumulating ex- 
perience. This helped to make more real 
those unseen things of which the Brocade 
Lady spoke. 

To Susan, as she stood up to sing in church, 
the lines of the old hymn— 

“ And in God’s house forever more 
My dwelling place shall be ” — 

brought a thrill, for God’s house was where 
Elsie was, and it no longer seemed distant and 
vague. 

The thought of Dick Seymour made her 
sad. He had been so fond of Elsie. Miss 
Margaret said her death was a great shock to 
him. He had been quite unprepared for it. 
And now there was no way by which he could 
ever know she had not meant to be rude. At 
least, Susan couldn’t think of any. 


CHAPTER XXI 


APRIL FOOL 

Oh, April Fool, don’t mind, keep cool; 

The lesson’s good to learn; 

For if you wait, as sure as Fate, 

Sometime will come your turn. 

“ Now what do you think Ahne has done? ” 
Bessie exclaimed, as she opened her work-bag. 
“ You know she promised us those two sets of 
paper dolls for our table at the bazaar, and 
now she has gone and given them both away; 
one to Susie Flynn.” 

“ Oh, but she’ll make some more, won’t 
she?” asked Susan, diving under the sofa for 
her spool. 

“ She says she won’t. She is tired of the 
Circle, but her aunt makes her come.” 

The Circle of the Golden Thimble had de- 
cided to give whatever they made on the sale 
of their doll to the new infirmary, and at the 
Easter Fair to be held for its benefit they were 
to have a table of their own, of which Lenore 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


would be the central feature. Other things 
would be necessary, however, and they were 
counting upon Aline’s paper dolls. 

“ I think Aline is very tiresome,” said Holli- 
day, and Lily added, “ I think she is mean.” 

“ Here she comes,” said Bessie. ‘‘ You ask 
her about the dolls, Susan.” 

“ Aunt Nan is going to send me some lovely 
doilies,” Holliday announced as Aline entered 
with her usual indifferent air. 

“ Then with the sweet-pea lamplighters, and 
your mother’s laundry lists, Bessie, and the 
wash cloths, and the magazine covers Miss 
Julia promised, and Aline’s dolls, we shall have 
enough, I guess,” said Susan. 

“You needn’t count on my dolls; I have 
given them away,” said Aline. 

“ Why, Aline Arthur, you promised! ” cried 
Holliday. 

“ I didn’t promise. I just said you might 
have them if — ” 

“ If what? I didn’t hear anything about 
an ‘ if,’ did you, Bessie? ” 

“If I felt like giving them to you when the 
time came, but I don’t. That’s all.” 

She has lost interest because she knows she 


APRIL FOOL 


243 


isn’t going to get the prize.” Bessie spoke in 
a whisper, but Aline heard. 

“ I suppose you think nobody can get a 
prize when you are around,” she retorted. 

Miss Margaret’s entrance cleared the sky 
for the time being. Bessie was rather confi- 
dent, but general opinion upheld her in it. 
She had a natural talent for needlework; her 
gathers were almost equal to the Brocade 
Lady’s own, and her buttonholes as good as 
embroidery, Holliday said. 

There had been, it must be owned, occa- 
sional bursts of ill feeling over Lenore’s 
clothes. The Brocade Lady was very strict, 
and work must be up to a certain standard. 
Susan’s, perhaps, came next to Bessie’s. 
Aline’s sewing was uneven, some of it beauti- 
fully done, some very poor. 

“ When you can do so well, dear, why do you 
waste your time doing so badly? ” Miss Mar- 
garet had asked gently. 

“ I always do the best I can,” Aline de- 
clared crossly. It was quite evident her 
interest in the Circle had faded, and if her aunt 
had not insisted that she must continue in what 
she had undertaken, she would have given it 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


244 

up. The one thing she seemed to care for now 
was to visit Susie Flynn. 

Elsie’s plan of taking the doll to Susie had 
been carried out, and her delight in it went al- 
most beyond words. They all thought of 
Elsie that afternoon and missed her gentle 
voice, her happy laugh. Lenore wore the lit- 
tle lace cap her fingers had fashioned, with the 
blue rosettes she had sewed on so happily the 
last time she had met with them. They said, 
as they had said so many times, how strange it 
seemed that she would never be with them any 
more. All but Aline. She did not care to 
talk of Elsie as the others did. 

Susie’s wistful pleasure in the doll inspired 
Aline’s gift. 

“ It is very nice of you to give Susie the 
paper dolls. Aline,” Holliday said, going back 
to the subject, while Miss Margaret found the 
place in “ David Copperfield,” “ but it isn’t 
fair to give her the ones you promised us.” 

“ I hadn’t time to make any more, and 
Susie loves them.” 

“ I think Aline would like to give Lenore to 
Susie,” Susan remarked, laughing. 

“ If some rich person would only buy her 


APRIL FOOL 


245 


and make a present of her to Susie, that would 
be lovely,” said Lily. 

“If nobody buys her, what will we do?” 
asked Bessie. 

“Why, Bessie Mann! Nobody buy her? 
What an idea,” they cried in a chorus. This 
was a possibility they refused to contemplate. 

As one by one the little garments were fin- 
ished, they began to feel in their work a great 
pride, which grew with the admiring commen- 
dations lavished upon it by the relatives and 
friends permitted to view it. One result of 
the visit to Susie was a beautiful little opera 
cloak, which Miss Tillie the seamstress found 
time to make after she came home from work 
in the evenings, and this was the beginning of 
numerous contributions to Lenore’s outfit, un- 
til, Susan said, it made you think of Christmas. 

“We have had lots of fun and learned a 
good deal even if we don’t get the thimble,” 
Holliday said philosophically, watching Susan 
sew on a tiny button. Presently her eyes 
traveled over to Lily and rested there thought- 
fully. “ Why, Lily Boone,” she exclaimed 
suddenly, “ you have a hole in your dress.” 

The immaculate Lily, who wore a new ging- 


246 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

ham, was horrified. “ Oh, Holliday! where? ” 
she cried. 

‘‘ Why, there are two ! Look, Susan ! I be- 
lieve somebody cut them with the scissors. 
Miss Margaret, Lily has some holes in her new 
dress.” 

“ That’s too bad,” Miss Margaret said sym- 
pathetically, while Lily examined her dress in 
bewilderment. 

Then Susan laughed, and they all remem- 
bered what day it was, as Holliday sang out, 
“April fool! I said I’d catch somebody. 
Don’t be worried, they are only buttonholes, 
Lily.” 

Holliday was a most successful April fooler. 
She knew how to take people unawares. 
After this they should all have been on their 
guard, but in the interest of the chapter Miss 
Margaret read, they forgot, and when Holli- 
day rose and went to the hearth to shake the 
bastings from her lap, and gave a sudden ex- 
clamation, no one doubted its genuineness. 

“ Miss Margaret, I saw a mouse ! ” she cried, 
sitting down on the nearest chair Turk fashion, 
her feet beneath her. “ There it is on the 
hearth by the fender. See ! ” 


APRIL FOOL 


247 


‘‘I see it, and I’m afraid of mice!” Lily 
sprang up and ran to Miss Margaret, sending 
her work basket and its contents flying. 

Susan and Bessie took refuge on the window 
sill. There was something small and da^-k on 
the hearth, certainly. “ Mice can’t hurt you,” 
Bessie announced from her place of refuge. 

“ Let go of me, Lily, and run call Nancy,” 
said Miss Margaret. She did not like mice, 
but she bravely advanced with the hearth 
broom, only to beat a retreat when Holliday 
exclaimed, There’s another! ” 

When Lily opened the door, Mr. Bright was 
saying good-by to the Brocade Lady in the 
hall, and hearing the cause of the excitement, 
came with masculine courage to the rescue. 

“ I didn’t know we had any mice. I haven’t 
seen one for a year,” the Brocade Lady said. 

Holliday was laughing and Susan slipped 
down from the window, as Mr. Bright, stoop- 
ing, picked up a small object at his feet. 

“ It is a mouse, isn’t it? ” Holliday asked. 

It was; a tiny velvet mouse with beads for 
eyes, and another like it lay on the hearth, 
where Holliday had dropped it. 

“ We are very stupid to-day. We have let 


248 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Holliday fool us twice,” Miss Margaret said, 
looking a little ruffled, but smiling. 

‘‘ She didn’t fool me,” said Aline, who had 
not stirred from her place during the excite- 
ment, “ I saw her drop it.” 

“ The Brocade Lady made them,” Holliday 
announced merrily. “ They belong on 
Susan’s pen-wiper.” 

Upon invitation, Mr. Bright sat down and 
was interested to hear about the Circle and its 
work. Some one proposed to show him the 
thimble, and with the key the Brocade Lady 
gave her. Miss Margaret opened the little cab- 
inet that stood in the chimney corner, and took 
out the case. They all crowded around Mr. 
Bright, for they, had not seen the thimble for 
several weeks, and then as he touched the 
spring there arose exclamations of surprise. 

‘‘ It isn’t another April fool, is it? ” he asked, 
looking at Holliday; for the case was empty. 

At first they all laughed. It must be some 
sort of a joke, they felt sure, until the Brocade 
Lady pointed out that it was scarcely possible, 
unless Mr. Bright was a prestidigitator. She 
had locked it up herself and she always carried 
the key of that cabinet. 


APRIL FOOL 


249 


“ Perhaps it fell out of the case,” Holliday 
suggested. 

“ How could it when the case was shut 
tight?” asked Bessie. 

However, the cabinet was thoroughly 
searched, but among the odds and ends of por- 
celain and silver which the Brocade Lady kept 
there, no turquoise thimble was found. They 
looked at each other blankly. Lily still sus- 
pected Holliday. 

“ When was it last seen? ” Mr. Bright asked 
judicially. 

Here there was some difference of opinion. 
Susan thought it was the day they had shown 
it to Miss Julia Anderson. 

“ Yes,” said Holliday. ‘‘ Don’t you remem- 
ber she came over to burn something, because 
they have only natural gas at the Ander- 
sens’?” 

“ That must have been three weeks ago,” 
Miss Margaret thought. 

After some discussion it was agreed that this 
was probably the last time it had been seen. 

“ I put it in the cabinet myself and locked 
the door,” the Brocade Lady said, “ and so far 
as I can recall I have not opened it since. I 


250 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

was starting out to an Infirmary Board meet- 
ing.” 

“ It is the strangest thing I ever heard of,” 
Bessie exclaimed, naturally concerned for her 
vanished prize. 

“ Somebody must have stolen it,” said Lily. 

“ As if any one would! ” said Aline. 

“ You don’t suppose Lily meant any of us. 
Aline?” Holliday cried. 

It proved difficult to recall that afternoon ac- 
curately. Some one would think of something 
and the next minute remember it could not 
have happened on this particular day. It was 
a hopeless puzzle. 

“We are all fooled this time,” Susan said. 

“ The only conclusion I can arrive at,” Mr. 
Bright remarked, after listening to the discus- 
sion for some time, “ is that the thimble was not 
in the case when it was put away. At least I 
advance that as a theory.” 

“ I don’t see how that is possible,” said the 
Brocade Lady. “ But we are all fallible. 
Perhaps for the present we had better think no 
more about it.” 

“ Why mightn’t it have been a burglar with 
a skeleton key, who took it? ” asked Lily. 


APRIL FOOL 


251 


‘‘ Why should a burglar take a thimble and 
leave other things of greater value? ” Miss 
Margaret said. 

“ Maybe he was a tailor,” Lily added; and 
this flight of imagination brought down the 
house. 

It was out of the question not to think about 
the loss. After leaving Aline at the corner 
where she took her car, the others walked slowly 
on, still wondering over and guessing at the 
problem. 

“ Oh see what a lovely rose somebody has 
dropped,” Holliday exclaimed, and running 
forward she stooped to pick up a long-stemmed 
American Beauty that lay in the middle of the 
sidewalk. Before her fingers closed upon it, it 
was quickly drawn away by an unseen force, 
and a voice called, ‘‘ April fool! ” 

“Did you ever!” she cried, very much 
chagrined, but laughing; and there was 
Charlie Willard’s merry face looking around 
the gate post. 

“ Oh, Charlie, I am so glad you caught 
her,” cried Bessie, clapping her hands. “ She 
has been fooling us all day.” 

“ It was only because I was so interested in 


252 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


the thimble,” said Holliday. ‘‘ It is a shame to 
drag a lovely rose like that over the pavement.” 

“ I begged it of Miss Julia Anderson,” said 
Charlie. “ I saw you coming along, and 
thought maybe I could catch some of you. 
Allow me to present you with the innocent 
cause of your undoing,” he added with a grand 
air, holding out the rose to Holliday, who ac- 
cepted it and pinned it on her coat. 

Lily wished to go to Browinski’s for some 
lemon drops, and Bessie went with her; 
Charlie’s thoughts were bent upon finding an- 
other victim, so Holliday and Susan were left 
to themselves. As they were parting a little 
farther on, Holliday said, “ Susan, I have just 
remembered that while Miss Julia was there 
that afternoon a hand passed. It was just as 
she was leaving and we all went to the door 
with her.” 

“ Then you think some one stole it then, 
and that the Brocade Lady didn’t look in the 
case when she put it away? ” asked Susan. 

“ I don’t know. I only remember how we 
went to the door with Miss Julia, — the Brocade 
Lady and all.” 

When the Brocade Lady was reminded of 


APRIL FOOL 


25S 


this, she insisted it could not have been more 
than a minute before she went back and locked 
up the thimble case, and how any one could in 
that time have removed the thimble and run 
away, she did not see. ‘‘ It may turn up,” 
she said. “ If it doesn’t we must find some- 
thing else for the prize.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


aline’s secret 

As my friend you must prepare 
A sorry secret now to share. 

“He skims along the surface of things; is 
kind when it does not cost him anything, is 
clever and entertaining, but incapable of seri- 
ous application.” 

Father was talking to Mother in the next 
room. Susan, deep in a book, heard the words 
and wondered for a moment to whom they re- 
ferred. “ Kind when it doesn’t cost anything,” 
she repeated to herself, then returning to her 
story she thought no more about them till the 
next day. 

The Seymours had gone away ; the big house 
was closed again for an indefinite time. Since 
Elsie’s death Mr. Seymour found the place un- 
endurable, Miss Duval told the Brocade Lady. 
She had been the idol of her father and mother 
and they could think of nothing but their loss. 

Margaret Kennedy had a note from her 

254 


ALINE’S SECRET 


255 

aunt, — only a few broken words, thanking her 
for her sympathy, and with it came a picture 
of Elsie. It was a dear little picture. The 
soft eyes, the wistful brightness of the smile, 
the winning charm, all were there. It was 
Elsie herself. It stood in its silver frame on 
Miss Margaret’s table at school the day after 
she received it, and the girls hung over it with 
absorbed interest. It brought Elsie so near. 

Miss Margaret had an engagement to meet 
the Brocade Lady down town, and hurried 
away when school was over. At the gate she 
remembered she had left the picture, and call- 
ing to Susan, who was just behind her, she 
said: “ Won’t you get Elsie’s picture for me, 
Susan, and leave it with Nancy at the door, 
as you pass? I am afraid something might 
happen to it, if it is left in the schoolroom.” 

Susan ran back willingly. Holliday had 
gone to take her music lesson, and she passed 
Bessie and Lily coming out. When she 
opened the schoolroom door Aline sat at Miss 
Margaret’s table, bending over Elsie’s picture. 
On her face as she looked up was an expres- 
sion of such unhappiness that Susan’s sym- 
pathy was stirred. She did not like Aline, 


^56 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


but she could not help being sorry for her. 
Perhaps after all she cared more about Elsie 
than she showed. 

Aline dropped her head on her arm, still 
holding the picture in one hand. Susan stood, 
hesitating and embarrassed. “ Isn’t she 
sweet? ” she said, and added, “ She liked you 
ever so much. Aline.” 

“ Do you think so really, Susan? Elsie was 
nice to everybody.” Aline’s shoulders quiv- 
ered, and she went on in a queer, strained 
voice, “ It wasn’t fair to let her die.” 

“ Oh, I guess it was. Aline,” Susan replied, 
sitting down on the other side of the table, 
* — “ fair to her. Dr. Thomas says she never 
could have been well.” 

Aline suddenly lifted her head. Susan 
thought she was going to argue the matter, 
but what she said was something quite differ- 
ent, and unexpected. “ Susan, will you help 
me about something? ” 

“ Why, if I can, — yes. Aline.” 

“ And you’ll promise not to tell? ” 

Susan hesitated, and Aline added, “ You 
can’t help me unless you do.” 

Susan did not want to promise, but Father’s 


ALINE’S SECRET 


257 


words came to her mind, “ Kind when it doesn’t 
cost anything.” Aline was unhappy. She 
ought to help her if she could. “ I won’t tell 
if you don’t want me to,” she said. 

Aline was silent for a moment, then she ex- 
claimed despondently, “ I don’t know why I 
do things, sometimes.” 

Susan nodded understandingly. “ I know.” 

‘‘ But you never do anything really wrong 
or hateful.” 

“ Oh, yes, lots of things. I am a coward 
sometimes,” Susan owned with a generous de- 
sire to reassure Aline at her own expense. 

“ Not so very long ago I was rude to — a per- 
son I like because — because I can’t bear to be 
teased.” Remembering the part Aline had 
had in the incident, Susan hesitated and came 
to a full stop. 

“ Do you mean at the skating rink? Hon- 
estly, Susan, I didn’t dream you believed we 
were going to telephone to Dick that day.” 

“ It was Bessie who started it, but I was 
dreadfully mad at both of you. I know J was 
silly, and it is too late now.” Susan spoke sadly. 

“Well, anyway, you never in your life did 
anything so bad as this. I thought I wouldn’t 


258 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


tell,— ever, but somehow I’ve got to.” Aline 
looked down at the picture she held, and Susan 
felt, though she had not said so, that Elsie had 
something to do with it. 

“ I like you better than any of the rest, so 
I am going to tell you. It is about the thim- 
ble,” Aline went on. 

Susan gazed at her with astonished eyes. 

“ You needn’t think I stole it,” Aline cried 
indignantly, though Susan had not spoken. 

“ Why, Aline Arthur, I wouldn’t think such 
a dreadful thing, but if you know anything 
about it, you ought to tell.” 

“ I know where it is.” 

‘‘ Can’t you get it? ” asked Susan, bewil- 
dered. 

“Not by myself; that is why I want you 
to help me. It was the day Miss Julia An- 
derson was there, and you all went out to 
look at something. I don’t like her; she’s 
silly,” Aline paused to add. “ I didn’t go at 
first. The thimble was on the table in the 
case, but it was open, and accidentally I 
knocked it oflp and it fell into the Brocade 
Lady’s big stuffed chair. I don’t think I 
meant to do it, Susan, but I felt cross, and I 


ALINE’S SECRET ^59 

didn’t want Bessie to have it because she is so 
conceited. I don’t know what possessed me, 
but I gave it a poke with the paper cutter, 
and it went down between the seat and the 
back. 

“ I tried to get it out, but I couldn’t, and 
then I thought I’d wait and try some other 
time, and anyway I didn’t care much if it 
was lost. I followed the rest of you to the 
door, and I hadn’t decided not to tell, but 
when we came back and I found the Brocade 
Lady had put away the empty case without 
opening it, why, I was glad for a minute to 
think Bessie wouldn’t get it, and then I didn’t 
like to tell, and — oh, I don’t know, Susan, — 
it just went on and on. I kept thinking I’d 
have a chance to get it out, but I haven’t.” 

“ If you had only told then, it would be so 
much easier,” began Susan. 

‘‘ Don’t say stupid things like that,” Aline 
cried. “ Perhaps it would have been, but if 
you will help me I can get it out now, I think. 
Then I can say I found it, poking around in 
the chair, don’t you see? ” 

Susan saw, but it didn’t seem quite fair 
to her. “ Aline,” she said, “ I found out last 


m 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


winter that the only comfortable way is to 
be honest about things, and not keep them 
secret.” 

Aline squared her shoulders. ‘‘ Susan, I 
have made up my mind. I am going to try 
to get that thimble. It was an accident in the 
first place, and I am not going to tell now and 
have them saying things. I may tell after we 
get it. I don’t know. I think I can get it 
out with a piece of bent wire, but I can’t get a 
chance by myself. Now, if both of us should 
go early next Friday, nobody would think any- 
thing of it, — the Brocade Lady goes to the 
infirmary, and you can watch while I fish it 
out. Will you, Susan? You promised, you 
know.” 

Yes, she had, Susan owned, and while she 
didn’t quite like it, perhaps there wasn’t any 
harm in waiting till she found the thimble be- 
fore she told. Aline had not meant to lose 
it. It was only a bit of bad temper. If she 
had told at once, no harm would have been 
done, just as, if she had told Holliday at once 
about Grandmother and Aunt Emily last win- 
ter, she would have saved herself much unhap- 
piness. “ I think it would be better to tell 


ALINE’S SECRET 


261 


now, Aline, but I did promise and I will help 
you if I can,” she said. 

‘‘ That is good of you, Susan,” Aline said 
gratefully. 

Susan was coming out of the Brocade Lady’s 
gate, after leaving Elsie’s picture, when Holli- 
day passed the corner returning from her les- 
son. Why, Susan Maxwell, what have you 
been doing all this time? ” she called, turning 
and coming toward her. 

Susan had considered her explanation to 
Mother for being later than usual, but she had 
not thought of meeting Holliday, so she stam- 
mered a little over her reply. “ Miss Marga- 
ret asked me to get Elsie’s picture, and I 
stopped to talk to Aline a minute.” 

Holliday looked at her narrowly. “ I should 
call it a pretty long minute,” she said. “ And 
what makes your face so red? What were you 
talking about? ” 

Susan swung her school bag nervously. 
“We talked a little about Elsie. Do you 
know, Holliday, I think Aline cares a great 
deal about her? ” 

“And what else?” Holliday demanded. 

“ Why, I don’t know. Holliday, what 


262 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


makes you look at me in such a funny way? ” 
Susan asked miserably. 

“ Because you are having a secret with 
Aline, and it isn’t fair.” 

“ But, Holliday, I’m not. That is, it isn’t 
my secret' — ” 

“We promised to tell each other everything, 
and I have kept my promise.” 

“ You didn’t tell me about the cake,” fal- 
tered Susan. 

“ That was very different,” Holliday replied 
loftily. 

“ How do you know it was? ” cried Susan. 
“ You don’t know anything about this. I don’t 
want to have a secret from you, and I’ll tell 
you just as soon as I can.” 

For the time Susan’s earnestness and evident 
distress won the day, but Holliday continued 
to be a little suspicious, and on Friday morn- 
ing when Aline whispered as she passed, 
“ Come early, at a quarter of three,” Susan 
was conscious of her eyes, and felt as guilty 
as if she had a crime on her conscience. She 
was far from being a conspirator by nature. 

Holliday was never very prompt at the Cir- 
cle meeting, and Susan was not in the habit of 


ALINE’S SECRET 


waiting for her ; so there was no difficulty there, 
and it seemed rather simple, after all, to do as 
Aline wished. As Susan went in, the Brocade 
Lady was setting out for one of her board meet- 
ings, and Miss Margaret had not come down. 
Aline appeared a moment later, and moving 
the chair around to the light, went to work 
with her bent wire, while Susan watched at 
the window. 

“ It was just in this corner it went down, 
Susan,” she explained. “ I can’t feel it with 
my hand, but I ought to be able to reach it with 
the wire.” 

The wire, however, in spite of Aline’s confi- 
dence, failed to bring out the thimble. After 
several attempts she became very angry, and a 
strange dark flush spread over her face. 

Forgetting her watch for a moment, Susan 
left the window. “ If you can’t get it. Aline, 
you will tell, won’t you? ” she asked. 

“ I’ll do just as I please,” Aline replied 
angrily, and at that moment the door opened 
to admit Holliday. Behind her came Miss 
Margaret. 

“ How nice and prompt you all are to-day,” 
the latter remarked. 


264 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ Aline and Susan seem to be having a pri- 
vate meeting,” Holliday said airily. 

Susan turned beseeching eyes to Aline. 
Wasn’t she going to tell? Aline, still flushed 
and cross, twisted up her wire and put it in her 
work bag. Clearly she had no intention of 
telling now. 

Susan sat helpless and miserable over her 
work that afternoon. Holliday was her usual 
merry self, but all her talk was addressed to 
Miss Margaret, or to Bessie and Lily. The 
other two were ignored. 

“ There’s an awfully nice girl come to live on 
our square,” she announced, — “ Clarice Du- 
mont. Isn’t that a lovely name? I like 
pretty names.” 

Susan listened, feeling painfully conscious 
of her own plain, everyday name. She had 
seen Clarice. Holliday had pointed her out, 
but not as if she was particularly interested in 
her. She was a year or two older than they, 
a pale blonde, with very grown-up manners. 

It is a question if Holliday knew how cruel 
she was during the days that followed. She 
knew her power and liked to use it. To be 
petted and spoiled by everybody is apt to make 
one careless of the feelings of others; and be- 


ALINE’S SECRET ^65 

sides, Holliday told herself that Susan deserved 
to be punished. 

They sat side by side at school as always, 
and Holliday was polite, — extremely so, and 
as sociable as an icicle. She was as gay as 
ever; if possible she sparkled more than usual, 
but it was for others. She continued to talk 
about Clarice. She had asked her to dinner. 

After one or two attempts to continue the 
old plan of walking home together, Susan gave 
it up and slipped down Vine Street by her- 
self. As Joe said, apropos of something else. 
Her Shyness had not yet learned to stand up 
for herself. It was not her way to make a 
confidant of any one, but she cried herself to 
sleep more than once. Mother began to talk 
about a tonic. 

As for Aline, she was threatened with ty- 
phoid fever, and could not be appealed to. 
Susan felt the burden of her secret in more 
ways than one. It seemed almost as bad as 
stealing not to tell when you knew; yet she 
had promised Aline. Being kind had certainly 
cost a great deal in this instance. 

“ Say, Susanna,” said Joe one evening about 
this time, “do you happen to have spent that 
ten Aunt Henrietta sent you?” 


S66 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ No, I am saving it to buy a set of books, ^ — 
perhaps some little Shakespeares like Miss 
Margaret’s, but I haven’t decided quite. 
Why?” 

“ Oh, nothing much. Say, how about lend- 
ing it while you are making up your mind? 
I’ll pay you interest.” 

“ Why, yes, of course, Joe. I was thinking 
of giving it to Father to put in the bank, but 
it will do just as well to let you have it,” and 
Susan ran up to find the gold piece for her 
brother. In the process she unearthed the 
motto Dick Seymour had given her, and the 
gauze fan from the Christmas tree. How 
long ago last Christmas seemed! And what 
difference did it make if she had beautiful eyes? 

“ Thank you, Susan Hermione. I’ll reim- 
burse you shortly. Sure you can spare it? 
And oh, by the way, keep it dark, will you? ” 

She nodded. “ How is the story coming 
on, Joe? ” she ventured to ask. 

“ Well, it is not, so to say, coming at all at 
present. Genius does not burn,” was her 
brother’s reply, and then he went whistling 
gayly down the walk. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


AT THE BAZAAR 

Pray you come to our bazaar; 

Wares of all descriptions are 

Here displayed. 

‘‘By the way, Brand, what has become of 
your ghost? I have heard nothing of it for a 
long while. Have you laid it? ” It was Mr. 
Heywood who spoke, taking a seat beside Colo- 
nel Brand in the street-car. 

On the colonels other side was a portly lady, 
and next to her was Susan. Mr. Heywood’s 
voice was hearty. He could be heard all over 
the car. Susan was interested. The colonel 
looked annoyed. 

“ I trust the nonsense is dying out,” he 
said. 

“ I notice you keep those particular shutters 
closed pretty tight,” Mr. Heywood went on, 
laughing. “ Do you know, a spectral Christ- 
mas tree strikes me as something new in ghost 
lore. My little girl, now, is as sure as she is 
of her own identity, that she saw that tree on 
Christmas Eve.” 

267 


268 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


The colonel looked bored. He owned po- 
litely that it was very odd. “ But then,’’ he 
added, your daughter had no doubt heard 
the gossip, and some persons are strangely 
open to suggestion.” 

“ Oh, of course, I don’t pretend to insist 
that she really saw it. She thinks she did, and 
' — ” Just here the portly lady got out, and 
Susan was brought to view. Mr. Heywood 
interrupted himself to exclaim, “ Why, Miss 
Susan, I didn’t know you were there,” and 
changing his seat for the one beside her, he 
shook hands cordially. “ You know Colonel 
Brand, don’t you? — Miss Susan Maxwell.” 

Susan wished he wouldn’t, and the colonel 
bowed stiffly. 

“ I was just asking Colonel Brand about his 
Christmas tree,” Mr. Heywood went on cheer- 
fully, unconscious that the subject was not 
agreeable to either of his hearers. “ Weren’t 
you there with Holliday the night that she saw 
it?” 

Susan said “ Yes ” timidly, while the colonel 
looked at her sternly beneath his heavy eye- 
brows. She was glad that her corner was in 
sight and she must get off, 


AT THE BAZAAR 269 

“ Holliday will be at home to-morrow,” Mr. 
Heywood told her as she said good-by. 

Holliday had been away somewhere with 
Aunt Nan for the Easter vacation, and actually 
it had been a relief to have her out of sight. 
Susan had turned to her books and Wynkyns 
for comfort, and in a measure found it. Al- 
most in the twinkling of an eye the world had 
burst into blossom and leaf. No matter what 
troubles you carried around in your heart, it 
was spring outside, — real summery spring, and 
you could not be quite miserable. 

The odor of fresh paint and furniture polish 
mingled with the breath of apple blossoms and 
lilacs. Snowball bushes bent beneath the 
weight of their blooms, and the calycanthus 
surrendered its fragrant buds by the handful 
without missing them. In all the windows 
fresh curtains were up for Easter, — and after 
Easter came the bazaar. 

In the hammock on the side porch Susan 
had some happy hours in spite of things, and 
when she thought of Holliday, hope would 
spring up. Aline was getting better, and the 
secret must come out before long, and then 
Holliday would understand and be sorry. 


270 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


But there was Clarice. Suppose Holliday 
really liked her best? Susan twisted the ring 
Holliday had given her. Perhaps she ought 
to offer to give it back. Still, Holliday had 
her locket. 

‘‘ Is anything wrong between you and Hol- 
liday? ” Miss Margaret asked one day, finding 
Susan on the porch. 

The question was unexpected, and Susan’s 
eyes filled. “ She thinks I am having a secret 
from her, and I can’t help it, for it isn’t my 
secret,” she answered. 

Miss Margaret was very kind and consoling. 
It would all blow over, she was sure, and if 
Susan was certain she was in the right she must 
be patient and try not to worry. As she talked 
she was looking back in thought and putting 
two and two together. 

‘‘ If a person doesn’t do a thing you think 
they ought to do. Miss Margaret, — a thing it 
seems wrong not to do, you can’t help it. You 
just have to wait, but you feel as if you had 
done wrong yourself.” Susan looked very 
wistful as she tried to state her case as guard- 
edly as possible. 

Miss Margaret patted the hand she held. 


AT THE BAZAAR 


271 


“It is difficult to advise when you don’t know 
the problem, but I suppose if it is not wrong- 
ing any one else, you are right to wait.” 

The bazaar opened in the afternoon of 
Easter Monday and lasted two days. No cor- 
ner of the big hall, so gayly decorated with 
cheesecloth and spring flowers, was more at- 
tractive than that presided over by the mem- 
bers of the Circle of the Golden Thimble, 
where on a table covered with an interesting as- 
sortment of fancy things Lenore sat enthroned 
in the midst. Surely any one might be proud 
to possess her. 

“ She is so lovely I hope she won’t be bought 
the very first thing,” Holliday exclaimed. “ It 
would spoil the table.” 

In the enjoyment of this long looked for- 
ward to occasion, Holliday at times forgot to 
be distant to Susan. She had brought Clarice 
Dumont with her, however, asking Miss Mar- 
garet if she might not help in Aline’s place. 
With Clarice standing before her she could not 
very well refuse, but she was not exactly cor- 
dial, Susan thought. 

Bessie whispered, “ Did you ever see such 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


m 

Susan thought Clarice had rather silly, sim- 
pering ways. She seemed very fond of Holli- 
day, and addressed her frequently as “ Dar- 
ling.” 

Anticipations of an immediate sale for the 
doll were so confident. Miss Margaret felt 
obliged to remind her owners that she might 
not be bought at all. “You know spring is 
not the best time for dolls. We may have to 
wait till Christmas,” she said. 

It was unbelievable, but little by little, doi- 
lies, handkerchiefs, book-marks, magazine cov- 
ers were sold, until their stock was perceptibly 
thinned out, and still Lenore sat undisturbed 
in the midst. 

Of any lack of appreciative, outspoken ad- 
miration she had no cause to complain. Little 
girls paused to exclaim over her wistfully. 
Mothers, grandmothers and aunts examined 
her apparel and wondered over the skill and 
patience of the needlewomen. Mrs. Boone 
brought person after person to see how beau- 
tifully Lily could hem, but though everybody 
knew Mrs. Boone had plenty of money, she 
did not purchase Lenore. 

Miss Arthur, too, expressed her admiration. 


AT THE BAZAAR 273 

but was satisfied with one or two trifles when 
it came to buying. Aline was getting better 
but was still weak. “ She has proved a very 
patient invalid, I must own,” she told Miss 
Margaret. “ I begin to think this winter has 
helped her after all. Perhaps I haven’t been 
as considerate always as I should have been. 
I wish you would come out as soon as this 
fair is over. Aline has said several times she 
wanted to see you.” 

The bazaar was seen in its glory at night, 
when pretty girls in gay costumes flitted about 
with their wares, invited the hungry to supper, 
or urged the wonderful power of the celebrated 
fortune-teller, who had been engaged for the 
evening, and received all, who were willing to 
pay her very moderate fee, in an oriental booth 
near the entrance. At intervals a band dis- 
coursed lively music. 

People came thronging in, among them Joe 
and Mr. Bright, and actually Colonel Brand, 
who, it must be confessed, seemed rather out of 
place, until the Brocade Lady took him under 
her protection. 

Miss Margaret looked particularly lovely 
in white, and no doubt had something to do 


S74 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


with the popularity of this corner of the hall. 
Mr. Bright kept coming back. Once it was to 
bring Miss Margaret some roses from the 
flower booth. Joe Maxwell, who was making 
himself both useful and entertaining, regarded 
him with disapproval. 

Somebody was always coming for Mr. Joe 
to help about this or that. Once it was to fix 
the lamp of the seeress, for only by means of 
its dim red glow could she read the palms of 
her patrons. 

“ She is a daisy of a fortune-teller,” he said 
to Miss Margaret, laughing, when he returned. 
“ You must see her. Come have your palm 
read; I have the tickets.” 

She shook her head very decidedly. She 
hadn’t time and she thought it was silly. 

“ Susan Hermione, here, you and Lily go 
and have your fortunes told,” Joe said, hold- 
ing out the tickets. 

“ I don’t believe I want to, Joe,” Susan be- 
gan. 

‘‘Yes, you do; go on. I have bought the 
tickets and you must use them; Lily will go, 
won’t you, Lily?” 

So hand in hand with Lily, Susan presently 


AT THE BAZAAR 


275 


stood before the mysterious portal. The Poet 
was pensively receiving tickets. He said only 
one might go in at a time, and Lily insisted 
that Susan must be first, so she timidly entered 
the dimly lighted chamber. 

On a divan, across which a tiger skin was 
thrown, reclined an awe-inspiring figure, 
draped in rich oriental fabrics, with gleaming 
chains and bracelets and other tinkling orna- 
ments, and a spangled scarf about her head 
so adjusted as to conceal her features. 

She took Susan’s hands in hers, holding them 
palms upward beneath the glow of the red 
lamp. Her touch was cool and pleasant. 
Then she let the left hand go, and keeping 
the right one, studied it with a magnifying 
glass. 

‘‘ You are very fond of books,” she said. 
“You are studious and have a bright mind. 
It seems quite possible that some day you will 
be a writer, perhaps a poet. You don’t like 
mathematics, but are capable of mastering it 
if you try. You are sensitive. You lack 
confidence in yourself. You are a little cold 
and indifferent towards people in general, but 
very fond of a few.” The fortune-teller 


276 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


paused here, took up Susan’s left hand again, 
glanced at it, then for a moment turned to a 
huge volume with strange cabalistic signs on 
its cover, which lay on a small table beside 
her. 

Taking her right hand once more she con- 
tinued: “ I see that just now you are worried 
about something. I do not know what it is, 
but it has come between you and one you love, 
and through no fault of your own. I can also 
see that you need not despair, for it is destined 
to be made right before long, and you will be 
happier than ever. There is wealth in your 
palm. It will probably come to you through 
marriage. I see an illness, or it ma^ be an ac- 
cident, but on the whole the lines in your hand 
indicate a happy life.” 

When the palmist released her hand, Susan 
rose. ‘‘ Thank you,” she said, for it seemed 
very wonderful and she couldn’t help believing 
every word of it. 

“ Don’t thank me ; thank your stars,” replied 
the fortune-teller. 

“ You needn’t be afraid, Lily, it’s lovely 
fun,” Susan cried with shining eyes to her wait- 
ing companion. 


AT THE BAZAAR 


277 

“ Then I infer your fortune is to be a happy 
one,” the Poet said. 

“ Oh, yes,” Susan answered with a shy 
smile. She had a sort of friendly feeling for 
the Poet. 

‘‘ You are favored, then, for it is not so with 
all who seek their fate at her hands,” he added, 
and sighed very deeply. 

“Have you tried yours?” Susan asked. 

The Poet answered “ Yes.” Such an un- 
adorned, lonesome “ yes, ” that Susan felt em- 
barrassed, and said no more. 

Lily came out presently, very complacent 
over her fortune, and they returned to the table 
comparing notes. Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell 
were there, and Mother wished to know where 
Susan had been, and when she heard, she shook 
her head. 

“ Pshaw! Kitty, it is just nonsense,” Father 
said, laughing. 

“ I don’t like such things even in play,” 
Mother objected. 

“ I thought for a minute that her voice was 
familiar, but the circular says she is a real 
gypsy. And she told me the strangest thing ! ” 
Susan’s eyes were dreamy. 


278 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ You see! ” said Mother. 

Holliday and Clarice went to have their 
palms read now, and as trade became brisk, 
Susan had to give her attention to business. 
The Brocade Lady brought Colonel Brand to 
look at the doll, which he pretended to admire. 
He purchased a number of small articles and 
then looked helpless over the package. Miss 
Margaret took pity on him, offering to keep 
it for him till he was ready to leave. 

Joe recommended the fortune-teller to him, 
but he seemed to prefer the vicinity of the cash 
box. Miss Margaret was the cashier. Susan 
thought Colonel Brand was rather old to have 
his fortune told, anyway. 

Bringing a bill to Miss Margaret for change, 
she heard her saying, “ I think it is a beautiful 
name, and if it were my house I’d plant two 
real Christmas trees, one on each side of the 
gate, to give a new reason for it.” 

‘‘ That is a most interesting idea, and worth 
considering,” the colonel responded. “ Fight- 
ing fire with fire, as it were.” 

When Holliday came back, Joe wished to 
know how she liked it. 

“ Oh, I don’t know, — ^very well, I guess, Mr. 


AT THE BAZAAR 


m 


Joe,” she answered, looking rather serious. 

“ I think she is a perfect dear, Mr. Max- 
well,” cried Clarice. “ She says I am going to 
marry when I’m eighteen. In three years 
more, think ! ” She* put her arms around Hol- 
liday, and looked archly at Joe. 

Holliday twisted herself away, and walked 
to the other side of the table. 

Miss Margaret gave holiday until Wednes- 
day, for it was useless to try to have school 
while the bazaar was going on. 

On the second day it chanced that Bessie 
was left in charge while the others were at 
lunch. When they returned she was all ex- 
citement. Lenore was sold! She pointed to 
the vacant place on the table and displayed 
three crisp bills, two fives and a two. 

“But who bought her, Bessie?” they cried 
in chorus. 

“ I don’t know. It was a man, — just an or- 
dinary man. He walked around the table and 
asked me if the doll was for sale. I said yes, 
and she was twelve dollars. He said it was 
right smart to ask for a doll.” Bessie laughed 
as she repeated his words. “ And then he took 
out the money and said, ‘ Do her up.’ 


280 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ I was so surprised I didn’t know what to 
do, but I told him she was really very cheap. 
Mrs. Willard helped me tie Lenore up, and 
she made an awfully big bundle with her 
clothes. Then he carried her away.” 

“You are sure it isn’t counterfeit money, 
Bessie?” Susan asked. 

This dreadful suggestion proved to have no 
foundation in fact. The bills were genuine 
and new; but the world seemed suddenly flat. 
Sad as it would have been not to sell her, to 
have her disappear without leaving a clew be- 
hind her as to her fate was scarcely short of 
tragedy. 

So she became the lost Lenore. It was the 
logical outcome of such a name, Joe said. 

F ortune-tellers were, of course, only pretend, 
as Mother said, yet Susan wondered how she 
could know about her trouble. Was it really 
written on her palm? She gazed at her plump 
hand thoughtfully. “ It will be made right, 
and you will be happier than ever.” She 
hugged this assurance to her heart. She 
couldn’t help believing it, she so much wanted 
to. 

And then, wonder of wonders! the next 


AT THE BAZAAR ^81 

morning Holliday was waiting for her on the 
corner. 

“ Susan/’ she said, “ I have decided to make 
up, if you will. I don’t think it was fair, after 
you promised, to go and have a secret with 
Aline, but — ” 

“ Oh, Holliday, I wish I could tell you. I 
think perhaps I can before long. I didn’t 
want to have a secret with her. I am so glad.” 
Susan fairly trembled with joy. 

After this they walked on, hand in hand, in 
the pleasant shade of the maples, almost in full 
leaf now. 

‘‘ I am just an everyday sort of a girl, Holli- 
day,” Susan said. ‘‘ I am afraid I’m not in- 
teresting like Clarice.” 

‘‘ Clarice is the most tiresome person in the 
world ! ” Holliday asserted warmly. “ She’s 
stupid and silly. You are a thousand times 
nicer.” 

Later on that day Susan asked Holliday if 
she believed in fortune-tellers. 

“ Why? Did she tell you something 
queer? ” 

Susan repeated what the palmist had said 
about her trouble. 


^82 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ Well, Susan, she told me a lot of things 
about marrying and all that, and then she said 
I had had a quarrel with my best friend, and 
that it was my fault and I ought to make up. 
It seemed very strange that she should know; 
and then anyway I was tired being mad.” 

That night Susan wrote in her diary : ‘‘ One 

good of trials is that you feel so happy when 
they are over.” 

Mother recommended to Mrs. Boone the 
tonic Dr. Thomas had given Susan. It had 
brought her out wonderfully, she said. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE COLONEL 

’T is out of reason. He denies 
The testimony of his eyes. 

The thimble was found. Aline had con- 
fessed to Miss Margaret, and the Brocade 
Lady sent at once for an upholsterer, who got 
it out in no time. 

“ Aline is very sorry about it,” Miss Mar- 
garet said. “ She did not realize how wrong it 
was not to tell at first. You know she is very 
persistent, and she had set her heart upon get- 
ting it out of the chair herself. She is too weak 
to be scolded now, and I think she really 
sees what a mistake she made. She asked me 
to explain it to you.” 

“ So that was it! ” Holliday cried, looking 
at Susan, who nodded. 

“ I couldn’t help her telling me,” she said, 
“ and then, of course, I couldn’t go and tell 
any one else, when she asked me not.” 

“No, I suppose you couldn’t,” Holliday 


S84 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

owned contritely. ‘‘ I am afraid I persecuted 
you for righteousness’ sake, Susan.” 

Miss Margaret, as they walked together in 
the park one Saturday afternoon, pointed the 
moral. She said that to promise never to 
have a secret from your best friend, was wrong, 
for it might sometime keep you from helping 
some one else. Friends must trust each other. 

Dr. Thomas was a good doctor. He knew 
as well as anybody that there was more than 
one sort of tonic. When the low fever which 
had hung over Aline for several weeks was 
finally broken, and she began to convalesce, 
he took his pad and wrote two prescriptions, 
one in the orthodox hieroglyphics, the other in 
plain English. The last read: “ Something 
to pet. A dog, or cat, or pony, or all three.” 

“ This may strike you as expensive,” he re- 
marked to Miss Arthur, “ but it will pay in the 
end.” 

Miss Arthur did not like pets, but during 
her niece’s illness she had made a few discov- 
eries which caused her to accept the suggestion 
more patiently than the doctor expected. 

On the third floor there was a small unused 
room which Aline had asked for, “ to keep her 


THE COLONEL 


285 


trash in/* was the way her aunt expressed it. 
Miss Arthur had never entered it until some- 
thing took her there while Aline was ill, and 
then the sight of the “ trash ” touched her. 

The unpapered walls were decorated with 
pressed ferns and leaves, and she had hung up 
her father’s picture and a little sketch of El- 
sie’s, very crude, but showing a remarkable 
likeness for an unpracticed hand. From the 
garret she had appropriated an old desk and 
a chair or two, had curtained the window with 
something she found among discarded odds 
and ends, and the whole effect was somehow 
homelike and individual, — more so than any 
other corner of Miss Arthur’s handsome house. 

This little room helped her to see that there 
was something in this tempestuous, difficult 
child worth working with. The Brocade Lady 
said Aline was so bubbling over with individ- 
uality that she had to express it, if only in 
contrariness ; and Miss Arthur, who was not a 
very acute person, began to realize something 
of this, and to feel that she had not been quite 
as thoughtful as she should have been for her 
niece. 

All this and more she told Margaret Ken- 


S86 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


nedy, and it goes to explain how, when Miss 
Margaret, Susan and Holliday, with Joe as 
escort, stopped at Miss Arthur’s one after- 
noon, they happened to find Aline on the porch 
in a big wicker chair with a half -grown Mal- 
tese kitten in her lap. 

Aline showed her illness, but looked bright, 
and was glad to see them and hear about the 
bazaar and Lenore. 

The original object of this Saturday after- 
noon expedition had not been a call at Miss 
Arthur’s, but the finding of a suitable place 
for the May picnic. 

There was, not far from Reservoir Park, a 
bit of woodland, with a stream running through 
it, known as Bennett’s Woods. It was acces- 
sible, and yet secluded enough to be ideal 
for small picnics. When the question came up, 
everybody who knew about it agreed it was the 
place of all others, and this committee of four 
had gone out to view the land and lay their 
plans. 

Alas for their hopes! A brand new wire 
fence surrounded their proposed picnic ground, 
and a large board with “No Trespassing ” on 
it confronted them. 


THE COLONEL 


m 

They looked at one another disconsolately. 
“ I suppose this settles it,” Miss Margaret 
said. 

“Isn’t there a gate?” asked Holliday. 

“ But they don’t want us,” said Susan, 
pointing to the sign. 

“ It is queer, after being open and free so 
many years,” added Joe. “ Perhaps it has 
changed hands.” 

Then Miss Margaret suggested that possi- 
bly Miss Arthur might know, and anyway they 
were near there and could stop and rest a 
while. 

Miss Arthur could not remember at first. 
She was sure that woodland had been sold, to 
whom she didn’t know. “ I wonder if it was 
not Colonel Brand? ” she said, after thinking 
over it. 

“ Of course,” remarked Joe, “ he is buying 
up the earth.” 

‘‘ Oh, dear, I do not wish to ask any more 
favors of him,” sighed Miss Margaret. 

“Have you been asking so many?” Miss 
Arthur inquired. 

“ Only one,” Margaret explained, and told 
about the Selfs. 


288 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ Watkins, the real estate man, was telling 
me about the colonel’s arrangement with the 
Selfs,” said Joe. “ It seems they are to have 
the shop and the rooms back of it, rent free 
for the rest of their lives. He takes over the 
property, keeps it in repair, pays taxes and 
so on, receives the rent from the upper floor, 
and in the end the property is his. It strikes 
me as rather a good thing for the colonel. The 
ground is likely to increase in value consider- 
ably in the next few years.” 

“ It is a good deal better for the Selfs 
than having the mortgage foreclosed,” Miss 
Arthur replied. “ They may live for a good 
while.” 

“ I think we must try* to find another place,” 
Margaret repeated. 

‘‘ The colonel is nicer than he used to be,” 
Holliday said. ‘‘ I thought he was hateful 
that day when he told us not to talk about his 
house being haunted. Suppose I get papa to 
ask him. Miss Margaret?” 

Tea or something happened just then to 
keep Miss Margaret from replying, and noth- 
ing more was said on the subject. An hour 
later whom should they find in the bird cage 


THE COLONEL 289 

station but Colonel Brand himself, waiting for 
the car. 

“ Do you know you have fenced in our pic- 
nic grounds, Colonel Brand ? ” Holliday de- 
manded saucily. 

Miss Margaret shook her head, but it was 
too late. The colonel insisted upon under- 
standing. He said he was sure there was a 
gate, and “No Trespassing ” did not refer to 
friends, who were welcome to have as many 
picnics there as they liked. 

Really, he was so pleasant about it, and it 
was so much the most convenient place, that 
Miss Margaret’s objections were overruled and 
the question settled in favor of Bennett’s 
Woods. 

That night the colonel saw his Christmas 
tree. He did not tell any one about it till 
long afterwards, for* the reason that he did not 
believe his own eyes. 

The Brocade Lady was right when she said 
Sidney Brand was diffident. He had faced 
many difficulties and conquered them, but he 
had never conquered a certain self-conscious- 
ness, with which went a troublesome sensitive- 
ness. What would Joe Maxwell have thought 


S90 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


if he had known that the bank president envied 
him his youth and his easy grace of manner? 

The colonel was a lonely man, for being 
naturally self-contained, and not knowing how 
to meet people except on the plane of business, 
he was considered cold. Yet he had social as- 
pirations and felt wonderfully cheered and up- 
lifted when on rare occasions he found himself 
mingling with others in an easy, friendly fash- 
ion. 

It pleased him to be able to furnish the 
place for the picnic, and he was not indifferent 
to Miss Kennedy’s charming smile. Indeed, 
he was recalling it as he walked home from 
his club about midnight. 

He was having the house painted and re- 
paired, and he was thinking of her clever sug- 
gestion for making the name which clung to 
the place reasonable on other grounds than 
ghostly ones. The cedars were already or- 
dered and other plans on foot for beautifying 
the garden. 'Next year he would — In the 
midst of his planning the colonel came face to 
face with his Christmas tree! 

The workmen had left some of the shutters 
off, among them those of the east parlor, and 


THE COLONEL 


291 


there in the window it shone, seeming to 
brighten with its lights the dimness of that 
unused room. It was a sight suggesting fairy 
fingers rather than ghostly ones. 

Colonel Brand closed his eyes, and then 
looked again. Yes, it was there. He walked 
on impatiently, telling himself it was nonsense. 
He crossed the street, and again looked up at 
the window ; but here, so close beneath it, it was 
half hidden by the porch. 

Had he really seen a tree, or was he dream- 
ing? As he stood before his gate the electric 
light which hung almost opposite grew dim, 
and after sizzling despondently for a second, 
went out. 

The lights in the town were abominable ; but 
ought he not to get a better view of that ridic- 
ulous tree with no light in the street? The 
colonel recrossed and again looked up at his 
east window. There was nothing there but 
shutterless, curtainless panes with darkness be- 
hind them. 

‘‘ I must have been bewitched for the mo- 
ment,” said the colonel. 


CHAPTER XXV 


MAY-DAY 

“We in thought will join your throng, 

Ye that pipe, and ye that play, 

Ye that through your hearts to-day 
Feel the gladness of the May.” ^ 

— Wordsworth. 

Every one knows how perfect a May-day 
can be, and this particular one might have been 
made to order as a model for all others, so pure 
and soft was the air, so deep and clear the sky, 
so delicious the freshness of grass and trees, the 
fragrance and color of early blooms. It was 
inexpressibly good to be alive, and what more 
appropriate expression of this joy than a May 
party with a queen and her court? 

The bells on the little brown mules actually 
jingled a tune as if the gladness of the occasion 
had somehow been communicated to them and 
they knew they were pulling a chartered car 
with a royal party on hoard, instead of just 
anybody who chose to lift a hand. 

It was sad to think that some people had to 
go to school or to business on this heavenly 

292 


MAY-DAY 


S93 


day, and worse yet that others who might have 
been going to the country, did not care to. 

At the Reservoir, where the car line ended. 
Uncle Dan, Mammy Ria’s husband, met them 
with a farm wagon which carried them and their 
baskets and bundles the rest of the way. And 
now, being far from town, their laughter, which 
had enlivened the way, turned to song. The 
horse-chestnuts were in bloom, as well as the 
dogwood and other spring blossoms that make 
glad the first of May in this part of the world. 
Singing was a necessity. 

Dan had made an earlier trip to the picnic 
grounds, and put up two swings and a see- 
saw, so there was amusement for the little ones, 
while Miss Margaret and the older girls made 
preparations for their guests who were ex- 
pected in the afternoon. 

Since the bazaar the Circle had been making, 
under Miss Margaret’s direction, some simple 
costumes for their May-day. Out of cheese- 
cloth and cambric, with a few well-directed 
stitches, wonders had been accomplished. Much 
against her will. Miss Margaret had to consent 
to be queen. Holliday, whose fingers could 
do anything with flowers, wove her a beautiful 


S94 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


crown of dalFodils, and from the shoulders of 
her white dress fell a mantle of pale green. 
Her maids of honor, who wore chaplets of ivy 
and mantles of red, blue, yellow and violet, 
agreed that there were no adjectives to ex- 
press adequately how lovely she looked. 

When Miss Margaret undertook a thing 
she did it thoroughly, and having consented to 
be queen she played her part royally. 

The younger children were dressed as pages 
and fairies, and Gertie was charged with the 
task of keeping them presentable till the guests 
arrived. 

‘‘ Isn’t dressing up the loveliest fun! ” Hol- 
liday cried, dancing across the rustic bridge 
which spanned the little stream, her hands full 
of flowers. 

‘‘ It seems so especially nice to be dressed 
up out of doors,” added Susan. “ It makes 
such a beautiful play.” 

The morning flew on wings and it was din- 
ner time before any one remembered to be 
hungry; but being reminded, they developed 
tremendous appetites. Lily’s anxious grand- 
mother would have been astonished beyond 
measure at the number of sandwiches she con- 


MAY-DAY 


S95 


sumed; Mrs. Maxwell might well have hesi- 
tated to call Susan’s appetite delicate, and 
Aunt Nan would have been inexpressibly 
shocked at her niece’s boast that she had eaten 
ten biscuit. But this was the magic of out-of- 
doors. 

When the royal feast was done, Robin and 
his clan must feed the fish in the brook, and the 
maids of honor had all they could do to keep 
the fairies and pages out of the water while 
Gertie had her dinner and put away the 
baskets. 

With the first installment of guests came a 
big freezer of ice cream, Mrs. Boone’s dona- 
tion to the picnic. She herself drove out, 
bringing Mrs. Maxwell and Mrs. Mann with 
her. There were some more mothers and 
older sisters; Bessie’s brother Tom, and 
Charley Willard, and Joe Maxwell, who, being 
in a bank, could get off sometimes for an after- 
noon, and Miss Arthur brought Aline over for 
a little while, in the phaeton. She was not 
strong enough for an all-day picnic. Last of 
all came the Brocade Lady, just as everybody 
was wondering why she had not come on the 
car, in Colonel Brand’s trap. 


296 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Miss Margaret had not expected to face such 
an audience in the character of May Queen, 
and she was decidedly provoked with the Bro- 
cade Lady for bringing the colonel. It gave 
her a lovely color. “ Why in the world should 
he want to come? ” she said to Joe. 

“ He is a queer chap,” answered Joe, who 
wasn’t altogether comfortable under the eye of 
the bank president. The colonel’s business 
methods and his own differed. 

The Brocade Lady was not to be blamed for 
preferring to drive out in Colonel Brand’s com- 
fortable carriage, but she might have known he 
would not fit in at a JNIay party. 

Miss Margaret made the best of it, and with 
her maids around her was a charming picture. 
There were recitations and songs, these last 
with Joe’s banjo to keep the key, after which 
the Brocade Lady awarded the turquoise thim- 
ble to the most proficient seamstress, who, as 
everybody knew, was Bessie. Then came a sur- 
prise, for as Bessie received it and returned to 
her seat, the Brocade Lady went on to say that 
a generous friend had been so impressed with 
the quality of the work done on the doll’s ward- 
robe that she asked the privilege of expressing 


MAY-DAY 


297 

it in a practical way, and when hand in hand 
the three other maids stood before her, each 
received a tiny box with a gold thimble in it. 
Not so unique as Bessie’s, they were pretty 
enough for any seamstress. 

Their benefactress turned out to be Miss 
Arthur, who wished to remain anonymous but 
Miss Margaret would not let her. Aline was 
as much surprised as any one. 

“ They are perfectly lovely. Miss Arthur,” 
Holliday said. “We thank you ever so much 
and we will try to sew up to them.” 

After this everybody did as he pleased. 
The ladies sat and talked and looked on; the 
children swung and see-sawed, and there were 
all sorts of games with Joe as leader, in which 
the queen joined with her subjects. Joe Max- 
well was famous for games. On an occasion 
like this Colonel Brand faded into insignif- 
icance beside him. The colonel looked on for 
a while and then wandered off, to view his 
land, no doubt. 

The crowning glory of the afternoon, as 
some thought it, was announced by Robin 
Bright, whose quick eyes were first to see the 
arrival. “ A monkey grinder ! A monkey 


S98 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


grinder!” he cried, clapping his hands joy- 
fully. 

An organ grinder and a monkey at your 
beck and call for a whole afternoon! Whose 
brilliant idea was this? Miss Margaret looked 
from Mrs. Boone to Miss Arthur, but they dis- 
claimed it. Could it have been Joe Maxwell? 
It was exactly like his extravagance. But no, 
he regretfully denied it. 

In this way the colonel, who came strolling 
back, was finally run down. He played with 
his eye-glasses and was somewhat vague, but 
didn’t deny it. Miss Margaret felt ashamed to 
think how cross she had been over his coming, 
and tried to make up for it, which, as the col- 
onel didn’t know she had been cross, he did 
not altogether understand, but enjoyed. That 
much was plain. 

A monkey relieved from business responsi- 
bilities for a whole afternoon was a novelty in- 
deed, and so was an organ grinder willing to 
repeat his tunes indefinitely. It made no dif- 
ference whether the tune was sad or gay, the 
children danced to it, and so the afternoon 
waned, and it was time for ice cream, and then 
they must pack up and get ready for Dan and 



‘“A MONKEY GRINDER! A MONKEY GRINDER!”’ 








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MAY-DAY S99 

the wagon. Beautiful days will come to an 
end. 

Some in the wagon and some on foot, they 
all arrived at the little station where the char- 
tered car waited for them. It moved off to the 
strains of “ Ah, I have sighed to rest me, — ” 
and the monkey waved his red cap in parting 
salute. 

‘‘ Hasn’t it been fun ! ” exclaimed Holliday, 
waving her hand to the Brocade Lady, who 
drove by with Colonel Brand. 

‘‘ Jolliest picnic I ever went to,” said 
Charlie Willard, nursing his ear, which had 
been stung by a wasp, — the only casualty of 
the day. 

‘‘ I wish we could have a Maypole next 
year,” said Bessie. 

“ Oh, say,” interrupted her brother, ‘‘ I have 
found out who the fortune-teller was at the 
bazaar.” 

“ Wasn’t she a real gypsy? ” asked Susan. 

“ Gypsy? no, — it was Miss Julia. They got 
up that story about her going to Cincinnati 
and fooled lots of people,” answered Tom. 

“ Then won’t my fortune come true after 
all? ” Lily wanted to know^ in injured tones. 


300 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ Just as much as if it had been somebody 
else, goosie,” said Charlie. 

Susan and Holliday looked at each other. 
How had Miss Julia known so much? 

“ Let me tell you the latest on Lily^ — be- 
gan Charlie. 

The Angel protested, but the rest begged 
for it, and Tom Mann, who admired Lily, said, 
‘‘ Never mind. I’ll tell one on him when he gets 
through.” 

“Well,” continued Charlie, “the other day 
Uncle Allan said something about having 
breakfast a la carte on the train, and my cousin 
Lily told him she thought he was very lazy. 
He couldn’t see why till after questioning her 
it came out that she thought it was breakfast a 
la cot, and meant in bed.” 

“ I don’t care,” cried Lily, as they all 
laughed. “ It sounded exactly like ‘ cot.’ ” 

“ Did you ever hear about the orange out- 
ing? asked Tom. “ How did it go, Charlie? 
‘ The orange outing is an ape found in Su- 
matra and Borneo — ” 

“ Oh, well, but I was young then,” protested 
Charlie, joining in the laugh. 

“Orang-outang,” said Holliday. “ Why, 


MAY-DAY 


301 


I think that is better than anything of Lily’s.” 

“ And I am sure Susan said — ” Lily began. 

‘‘ Now don’t tell about the Gridironists any 
more,” Susan begged, “ that is an old story.” 

That night Colonel Brand sat in his hand- 
some library alone, thinking. One would im- 
agine he might have felt happy under the cir- 
cumstances, but he didn’t. He was lonely and 
dissatisfied with himself. What a big, hand- 
some fellow Joe Maxwell was! What spirits 
he had, what a grand playfellow he made ! He 
deserved the smiles the May Queen gave him. 

Thinking of smiles, the colonel turned the 
leaves of a little book of sonnets and marked a 
passage beginning, ‘‘ The look she hath when 
she a little smiles, — ” and wrote the date on the 
margin. By doing that he rather gave himself 
away. 

Susan went to bed thinking about the for- 
tune-teller. Could Miss Margaret have told 
Miss Julia? 


CHAPTER XXVI 


DICK 

How little for the clouds we care 
When they are past and all is fair. 

It was one of those cool days in late Septem- 
ber, when after the long, hot summer the world 
begins to take heart again and feel tingles of 
energy along its spine. The rain of the night 
before had freshened the yellowing trees and re- 
newed the grass, and washed the sky till it was 
the bluest blue. 

Susan, walking along North Street, was en- 
joying the day without thinking about it. In 
her mind the refrain, “ Holliday is coming to- 
morrow,’’ w^as repeating itself over and over. 
Holliday, whom she had not seen for three long 
months. Susan, too, had been away on a visit 
to Grandmother and Aunt Emily and was still 
feeling the pleasant excitement of being at 
home again. 

She was on her way to the Brocade I^ady’s 
now, after stopping in to see the Selfs and 
Susie Flynn. 

30 ^ 


DICK 


803 


Himself she found was getting about a little, 
with the aid of crutches, and Herself wore a 
new ice wool fascinator. The house had been 
painted inside and out so that you hardly knew 
the place, and there were new tenants upstairs ; 
but when Susan remarked upon the improved 
appearance of things. Herself did not respond 
cordially. Folks could afford to paint houses 
they was getting for nothing, she said, and it 
had been a terrible bother moving the books. 

It belongs to you as long as you live, 
doesn’t it? ” Susan asked. ‘‘ I am sure that is 
the way I understood it.” 

“ Oh, yes, he’s counting on us dying, he is, 
and I ain’t going to die to please him or no 
one else,” Mrs. Self declared stoutly. 

Susan felt embarrassed at this defiant atti- 
tude. Old Look-in-a-Book, too, seemed de- 
pressed, perhaps by the cleanness of the win- 
dow in which his cage hung. He gave his cus- 
tomary advice in a half-hearted way, as if by no 
means convinced himself that it was worth 
while to resort to the printed page. Susan 
handed over the picture papers she had saved 
for Himself, and was glad to escape. 

At the Flynns’ it was different. Susie’s 


304 ) 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


chair was out in the back yard under a ragged 
old sycamore tree, and in her lap was a Mal- 
tese kitten which she said Miss Aline had 
brought her the day before, — a brother of 
her own Grayson. “ I want a pretty name for 
him. Miss Susan,” Susie said. “ Can’t you tell 
me one? ” 

Susan sat on the grass and looked up into 
the branches of the tree. “ Why not call him 
Gray Brother?” she said. 

Susie laughed. “ Little Gray Brother,” she 
repeated, “ that is a nice name.” 

The Flynns’ back yard was a pleasant 
corner with its hop vines, and a bed of scarlet 
sage along the fence, and the neatly reddened 
walk. Susan stayed for half an hour and then 
went on her way. 

Past Browinski’s she went, stopping a 
moment to glance at the goodies in the window, 
and wonder if Sophy Idelle was at home. A 
block farther on was Christmas Tree House, 
looking very dignified and reserved, and quite 
as if it had never heard of a ghost. The new 
cedar trees were doing finely, and everything 
about the place was in the trimmest order. 

The Seymours’ had a half -open look. Mr.. 


DICK 


305 


and Mrs. Seymour were there for a few weeks, 
then it would be closed again for the winter. 
Only the day before a package containing a 
little twisted gold bracelet with “ Elsie ” on 
the clasp had come to Susan. Mrs. Seymour’s 
card was inclosed, and on it she had written, 
“For Susan. A little remembrance of her 
friend.” She had sent something to' each of 
the Circle. Susan wore her bracelet now, and 
the fingers of her other hand touched it every 
few minutes with a feeling of pleasure. 
Elsie’s bracelet and Holliday’s ring might 
stand as symbols for her year’s experience, — ^ 
the year which had begun with the red diary 
and her wish. Perhaps Susan did not quite 
think this out, but she felt it. 

At the Brocade Lady’s there was no one at 
home, but Nancy thought Miss Margaret 
would be in before long, so Susan said she 
would wait. In the sitting-room it was very 
quiet, and the most absolute order prevailed. 
The lion on the hearth rug seemed sunk in 
deepest repose. Rows of dignified volumes 
held themselves aloof behind the glass doors 
of the tall cases; in the magazine racks were 
piles of LittelFs Living Age and Harper's 


306 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Monthly in a chronological order that you 
hesitated to disturb. Just outside the hall 
door the clock ticked “ Virtue is its own re- 
ward.” 

Susan took the top Harpefs and sat down 
on an ottoman near the window. On the sofa 
she saw a book with a handkerchief between 
its leaves. Circumstantial evidence pointed to 
Miss Margaret; the Brocade Lady never left 
handkerchiefs in books. 

Twisting her bracelet absently, Susan fell 
into a dream from which the opening door 
aroused her. She peeped around the Brocade 
Lady’s chair expecting to see Miss Margaret, 
but instead, of all persons in the world, it was 
Dick Seymour! Her heart jumped up into 
her throat and she sat very still on her otto- 
man. 

Dick looked tall and thin and brown as he 
advanced to the table and stood there. He 
did not see Susan, who was a small person and 
quite hidden by the armchair. Was he going 
to wait for Miss Margaret, too? And what 
could she say or do? Susan looked down at 
her bracelet. The sight of those graceful let- 
ters on the clasp somehow gave her courage. 


dick: 307 

She stood up. “Dick!” she said softly and 
appealingly. 

He turned with a start. “ Why, Susan ! ” 
he exclaimed. “ I didn’t know you were 
here,” and he came forward holding out his 
hand. 

“ I came in to wait for Miss Margaret,” 
Susan explained, and then stood shyly twisting 
her bracelet. She felt Dick’s eyes upon it, and 
extending her arm she said, “ Your mother 
sent it to me.” 

Dick replied, “ Yes.” 

Susan plucked up her courage. “ Dick, 
there’s something I want to tell you. It is 
about that day at the rink. I am sorry I was 
so horrid. There was something I didn’t un- 
derstand. I thought — ” Susan hesitated. 
It was so difficult to explain. 

But Dick met her more than halfway. “ It 
is all right, Susan. I did think you were 
awfully queer and I was pretty mad, but Aline 
told me about it the other day.” 

Susan’s cheeks flamed, as Dick went on: 
“ She said that she and Bessie told you they 
were going to telephone to me that you wanted 
me to come and skate with you, or some such 


308 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


nonsense, and you thought they really had. 
I should have known it was a joke if they had,” 
he added, laughing. “ I’d never suspect you 
of such a thing.” 

Susan laughed too. “ I’m afraid I am a 
goose,” she said, “ but I didn’t want you to 
think— ” 

“ That you liked to skate with me? ” he fin- 
ished. “ Oh, well, never mind. I only wish 
I was to be here next winter, but I shall have 
to stay at school, I guess. All the rest of them 
will be in Paris.” 

After this they settled down to friendly 
talk. Her Shyness looking very sweet as she 
sat in the Brocade Lady’s chair, her hands 
demurely grossed in her lap, while Dick occu- 
pied the ottoman. 

Susan was doubtful whether or not to men- 
tion Elsie, but Dick spoke of her himself. 
“ She liked you so much, Susan, — you and 
Holliday,” he said. 

Susan told him about the poem that made 
them think of Elsie, and then found it for him 
in the Brocade Lady’s Wordsworth, which hap- 
pened to be at hand. 

Fair as a star,’ ” Dick repeated; “ I never 


mcK 


309 


cared much for poetry, but that is like Elsie, 
I see. She was so different from everybody 
else, — that is, in our family. You are a little 
like her, I think.” 

Like Elsie? It was incredible, Susan 
thought, but she flushed with pleasure. 

Then Miss Margaret came in and proved to 
be the same dear, charming person, only dearer 
and more charming, if possible. She fitted in 
most perfectly and they were in the midst of 
the happiest sort of talk, when Colonel Brand 
walked in. It was provoking when there were 
such quantities of things to be discussed in 
which he had no interest. Still, there was 
nothing for it but to give him the right of way. 

Dick walked home with Susan and when 
they parted at the gate he said he hoped he 
would see her again before he left for school. 

It really seemed as if there was nothing left 
to be sorry about now. It was nice of Aline, 
Susan felt, to explain to Dick. She was evi- 
dently trying to show her friendliness. 

Holliday’s advent added a zest to every- 
thing. Susan and Joe went down to meet the 
train, and for a second, when Holliday’s 
sparkling face appeared behind her father on 


310 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


the platform of the car, Susan had a fit of shy- 
ness, and that queer impulse to run away ; but 
of course she couldn’t, and with Holliday hug- 
ging her and exclaiming, “ Oh, Susan, I have 
such lots and lots to tell you,” the enemy sub- 
sided. 

At first sight Holliday looked alarmingly 
grown up. She was half a head taller than 
Susan and her dresses were longer. Her 
pretty hair was braided and tied with lovely 
bows that took yards of ribbon, as Bessie re- 
marked enviously. Being one of ten, five of 
whom were girls, limited the ribbon supply for 
Bessie. 

Holliday came flying over to see Mother. 
She petted Wynkyns, ran out to the kitchen to 
speak to Silvy, and upstairs to see Susan’s new 
rain-coat. Then the two subsided into the 
swinging seat, from which for an hour or more 
came a continuous ripple of laughter. 

After a while Bessie and Lily joined them, 
and Charlie Willard, hearing sounds of merri- 
ment, poked his freckled face between the 
vines with, “ Hello! you all.” 

Bessie and Charlie had been at home all sum- 
mer, and had a good deal of news to commu- 


DICK 311 

nicate to the returned travelers. For one 
thing Miss Julia Anderson was going to be 
married. 

“ Miss Katie Flynn is sewing there now,” 
Bessie said. “ Miss Julia is going to show us 
all her trousseau; she told me so, and she has 
perfectly lovely things. Sister Laura is to be 
one of her bridesmaids.” 

“ Who is she going to marry? ” Susan 
wanted to know. “Is it the—” 

“No, indeed,” interrupted Charlie. “Do 
you mean Mr. Reynor? Not much. It’s a 
Chicago man.” 

Susan remembered the Poet’s melancholy 
“ Yes,” when she asked him if he had consulted 
the fortune-teller. She liked the Poet, and 
felt sorry for him. 

“ Have you heard about Mrs. Carrol? ” 
continued Charlie. “ Christmas Tree House, 
you know. Well, she has gone crazy sure 
enough.” 

“ Has anybody seen the Christmas tree 
lately? ” asked Holliday. 

“ No, for the colonel keeps the shutters 
closed, but somebody told Mother his house- 
keeper said she would have to leave, it was so 


S12 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


hard to get servants,” Charlie answered. 
“ Do you believe in that tree? ” 

“ Of course I do. I saw it, — Susan and I.” 

“Did you know Dick Seymour was here? 
I saw him yesterday,” Lily remarked, and 
Susan said she had seen him, too. 

“ He’s going back to school to-morrow,” 
Charlie added. 

“ I wish I could see him. I like Dick,” said 
Holliday. 

Bessie, twisting one of Lily’s curls around 
her finger, remarked that she didn’t see any- 
thing so great about Dick Seymour. 

“ Sure the grapes are perfectly ripe, Bes- 
sie? ” laughed Charlie, not very gallantly, and 
Holliday chimed in with, “ How about last 
winter, Bessie? You liked him pretty well 
then.” 

“ I guess I can change my mind if I want 
to,” said Bessie, turning her back upon 
Charlie. “ Anyway, Susan is the one who was 
so crazy about him.” 

Susan had learned her lesson. “ I don’t 
think I am crazy about him, but I like him 
ever so much,” she said steadily. 

“ And I’m going to tell Grandma, Charlie 


DICK 


313 


Willard, how rude you are,” announced Lily. 

“ What is going on here? ” asked Miss Mar- 
garet’s voice, opportunely, and she was forth- 
with given an uproarious welcome and installed 
in the swinging seat beside Holliday. 

Charlie, remembering the errand he had set 
out to do an hour before, departed and left 
them free to talk school matters. 

Miss Margaret was to have her class again, 
but this year she was to give all her attention 
to her older pupils, with three or four additions 
to their number. 

“And we can meet in our old room, at any 
rate till the first of the year,” she said. 
“ After that they are talking of altering St. 
Mark’s, lowering the floor of the church and 
building a new chapel.” 

“ I am glad we shall not have to give up our 
Wise Man this winter,” Holliday said. 
“ Everybody thinks it is the queerest thing to 
have a grave in a schoolroom, but I think he 
has helped us to study hard.” 

“We can take our text with us wherever we 
go,” Miss Margaret replied. 

One of the new girls was Clarice Dumont. 
Susan, though she was quite sure of Holli- 


314 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


day’s affection now, wished things could go on 
in the old way. She didn’t like changes. 

That evening Dick came in with Charlie 
Willard to say good-hy. Mother was on the 
porch. Dick wanted to know if Susan would 
not write to him. ‘‘ Just once in a while. It 
is so lonely, you know, with your people all so 
far away.” He looked at Mrs. Maxwell as 
he spoke. 

“ I am afraid Susan won’t have much time 
for letters,” she said, but she did not say posi- 
tively “ no.” 

“ You don’t really want to write to him, do 
you, Susan?” she asked after the boys had 
gone. “ You hardly know him.” 

“ Why, yes. Mother, I believe I do. I think 
I know him pretty well,” was Susan’s reply. 


CHAPTER XXVII 

BEING A SISTER 

Bad fortune often turns to good, 

"When with brave hearts we take it. 

In very truth the thing called luck 
Is largely what we make it. 

“ Susan, have you the gold piece Aunt 
Henrietta sent you at Christmas?” Father 
asked the question with startling suddenness, 
looking over his paper. 

Susan hesitated. She had been wondering 
about that gold piece herself. ‘‘ I — ^why, no, 
Father, I haven’t,” she replied. 

“ Have you spent it? ” 

“ Not exactly. I have been thinking of get- 
ting some little Shakespeares. Holliday’s 
uncle gave her a lovely set, all bound in 
leather.” 

“ ‘ Not exactly ’ is silly, Susan. I have a 
reason foor wishing to know what you have 
done with that money.” 

When Father spoke in that tone, which was 
seldom, no hedging was possible. Susan had 
to own that her brother had borrowed it. 

315 


316 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


‘‘ But he is going to pay it back I am sure,^’ 
she urged. “ And I’m not in any hurry for 
the books.” 

“ I thought as much,” Mr. Maxwell said, 
paying no attention to the last part of her re- 
mark, and on his face was an expression that 
always made Susan unhappy when she saw it. 
It was usually Joe who called it forth. He 
returned to his paper again, but looked up 
to add kindly, ‘‘ Don’t worry about the gold 
piece, my pet. You shall not lose it.” 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t mind at all. Please don’t you 
mind,” was Susan’s reply. 

This conversation caused her to awaken to 
the fact that something was wrong in the 
family. She had been so occupied with the 
opening of school, the arrival of Holliday’s 
aunt, who was to spend the winter at the Hey- 
woods’, and all the various pleasant everyday 
happenings, that she had been only dimly con- 
scious of it. Now she was suddenly aware that 
Father’s face had worn that stern expression 
rather constantly of late, while Mother looked 
anxious and worried. Joe, too, had been un- 
like his usual sunny self. Very little at home, 
he was alternately gloomy and hilarious. 


BEING A SISTER 


317 


Money it was plain had something to do 
with it. Susan had heard that this year the 
times were hard, for some mysterious reason, 
but she had heard it too often before to pay 
much attention. 

The trouble culminated in Joe’s losing his 
place at the bank. Retrenchment was the order 
of the day everywhere, and not having made 
his services invaluable Joe was dispensed 
with. This was a shock to Susan, who had had 
a feeling, that the bank could hardly run with- 
out Joe. 

Joe was inclined to lay the blame upon 
everybody but himself. He despised such 
methods as Colonel Brand’s. Always nosing 
about, stingy old miser that he was! 

Father retorted that the colonel was per- 
fectly right to clear out the dead wood. 
Clerks who cared more for pleasure than for 
business and set an example of extravagant 
habits, were likely to find themselves left out. 
It was very necessary that bank officials should 
inquire into the characters of their employees. 

“Do you mean to insinuate — ?” cried Joe. 

‘‘ I insinuate nothing. I only say that if 
you call it honest, sir, to buy things which you 


318 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


have not the money to pay for, your ideas and 
mine differ.” 

“ Don’t be too hard on him, dear,” Mother 
said, as Joe left the room, closing the door 
emphatically behind him. “ Perhaps this will 
be a lesson to him.” 

“ It is I who have had the lesson, Kitty, and 
a very bitter one,” was Mr. Maxwell’s reply. 

“ Father, I am sure he is sorry,” Susan ven- 
tured to say. “ He told me he was.” 

“ I fear his kind of ‘ sorry ’ will not help mat- 
ters much. But don’t worry your little head 
about it.” Father did not realize how fast 
Susan was growing up, and how along with 
the letting down of her dresses a responsibility 
in regard to family burdens was developing. 

Susan was proud of Joe. All the girls en- 
vied her her gay, handsome, entertaining 
brother. It was painful to find he was not 
much of a hero after all. But when he put 
his head in her lap and declared he was a flat 
failure and no good on earth, she felt dread- 
fully sorry for him. 

I know you will find another place, Joe, 
and there’s your novel. Can’t you go to work 
and finish it? ” she suggested. 


BEING A SISTER 


319 


‘‘ I am afraid, Susan Hermione, that novel is 
a grand fizzle. It wasn’t so easy as I thought, 
and anyway now I am not in the mood. It 
is just my luck,” he continued. Because a 
fellow hates to be mean he gets into a lot of 
trouble. I am awfully sorry about your gold 
piece, Hermie, and you shall have it back 
if I have to work my fingers to the bone.” 

‘‘ I don’t mind about that at all,” Susan 
hastened to say. “ I’d rather you would pay 
other things first.” 

She ventured to ask Mother if Joe owed 
much money. 

I don’t know, I fear there are a good 
many bills, dear,” she replied, adding, “ You 
and I must be patient with him. Perhaps I 
helped to spoil him when he was little. When 
he came to me he was the dearest eight-year- 
old you ever saw, but not easy to manage, be- 
cause he had been so indulged. I know I ex- 
cused faults in him I should never have over- 
looked in you, because I wasn’t his own mother. 
The spoiling has gone on all these years, and 
now we must be patient and remember it is 
not altogether his fault that he puts his own 
pleasure first, for he was taught to do it in 


S20 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


babyhood. We believe, you and I, that there is 
good stuff in him, so we must love him and try 
to help him. It is hard on Father, the disap- 
pointment coming just now when he is wor- 
ried over business. We must try to help them 
both.” 

Thinking it over by herself, Susan wished 
she could make a little money in some way. 
She wondered, too, about luck. What was it? 
According to Joe, Colonel Brand was lucky 
and he himself wasn’t. Mother said there was 
no such thing, but surely there was something 
you called by that name for lack of a better. 
Susan propounded the question to Holliday, 
but got no light from that quarter. Some 
persons were luckier than others, of course, that 
was clear, but what made them so was another 
matter. 

It happened curiously enough that Susan’s 
question was answered by Colonel Brand, — 
after a fashion, that is. 

It was one afternoon when she and Holliday 
went to Self and Son’s with something for the 
old people. 

The Circle of the Golden Thimble, enlarged 
by the addition of the new members of Miss 


BEING A SISTER 


321 


Margaret’s class, had begun their meetings 
again and were working for a little sale of 
their own to be held in the spring, and Miss 
Margaret had begun another Dickens. Be- 
sides, each week some one or two of their num- 
ber visited the Selfs and Susie Flynn. 

Those hours spent in the Brocade Lady’s 
sitting-room were well spent. There uncon- 
sciously the gentle art of being a lady was 
acquired and the habit of being thoughtful for 
others. Miss Margaret said it was good for 
the Brocade Lady too, to have those merry 
young people about once a week. She seemed 
a trifle depressed these days. 

Fortunately, Holliday said. Aunt Nan ap- 
proved of Miss Margaret and pronounced her 
really exquisite. Mrs. Lawrence’s presence at 
the Heywoods’ was the most strikingly new 
feature of this winter. She was affable, but so 
suggestive of state occasions Susan never felt 
quite at ease with her. It was impossible to 
imagine her sitting on the floor as Miss Mar- 
garet did, to look over the Brocade Lady’s 
piece bag. A throne would have been the 
place for her, and there was always the length 
of a scepter between her and you. 


322 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

Aunt Nan was frequently bored. She 
couldn’t find what she wanted in the shops, 
and Susan felt ashamed of the poor facilities 
the town offered, though it seemed to her if 
she had the money she could do very well her- 
self. The markets too were limited, and the 
barbarian custom of dinner in the middle of the 
day shocked Aunt Nan. 

The first occasion of dining at the Hey- 
woods’ after Mrs. Lawrence’s arrival was an 
event to Susan. At Grandmother’s dinner 
was a stately meal in an old-fashioned way, but 
not like this. There were candles on the table, 
and flowers, and little else. It seemed solemn, 
almost religious, and took a long time and a 
great many plates. Susan had to watch Hol- 
liday to be sure she was using the right spoon 
or fork. Mrs. Lawrence was dressed as for a 
party, but it turned out she was not going 
anywhere. She always dressed for dinner. 

There could be no doubt about it, Holliday 
liked to escape from Aunt Nan’s rule at times, 
and do plain everyday things in a plain every- 
day way. Even to chatting with the Selfs in 
their dingy little parlor back of the shop ! 

It was a chilly, threatening afternoon when 


BEING A SISTER 


S2S 

Susan, with a loaf of brown bread, and Holli- 
day, with some papers, set the bell jangling and 
woke the parrot. 

Mrs. Self asked them into the back room to 
see her husband. It cheered him up a bit to 
have a chat with somebody now and then, she 
told them. Himself was more than usually 
like a venerable bird, propped in his chair by 
a window which overlooked a not very tidy 
back yard. He was extremely deaf and fre- 
quently ejaculated “ Hey? in a manner that 
caused Susan to forget what she had been try- 
ing to say. Holliday did not mind in the 
least, but cheerfully repeated her remarks in 
a higher key. 

The blaze in the open Franklin stove was 
pleasantly reflected in the crayon portrait of 
Johnnie on the opposite wall; on the braided 
mat a most ordinary black and white cat lay 
asleep. It is wonderful how comfortable a 
blazing fire and a sleeping cat can make a 
dingy room appear. 

“Wouldn’t it be lovely to keep a store? — • 
just you and me, with a parlor back of it,” 
Holliday whispered. 

The bell at that moment proclaimed another 




EVERYDAY SUSAN 


customer, and Holliday laughingly tip-toed 
after Herself to see who it might be. 
“Susan!” she exclaimed in a stage whisper, 
“ it is Colonel Brand.” 

The colonel had been told the Selfs had an 
old sideboard they had no use for and he had 
called to see it with a view to purchasing, if 
he liked it. Mrs. Self was most deferential, 
not to say obsequious, in her manner. Susan 
wondered, remembering how she had spoken 
of the colonel. 

Herself was sure she hadn’t anything the 
colonel would want, but she would speak to 
Himself, and thereupon ushered him into the 
parlor, from the door of which the listeners re- 
tired pell-mell with suppressed giggles. 

Colonel Brand not unnaturally looked sur- 
prised, and Holliday, recovering herself, 
politely observed that they had not seen him 
since the picnic. 

He twisted his mustache and replied that 
he had been out of town. He declined to sit 
down, he had only a moment. He asked 
Himself how he was, and the old man gave a 
gloomy account of his health. 

“ It looks like some has luck and some 


BEING A SISTER 


SS5 


hasn’t,” old Mrs. Self remarked pensively. 

‘‘ Do you believe in luck, Colonel Brand? ” 
demanded Holliday the audacious. “ Susan 
and I have just been talking about it.” 

He regarded her sternly. “ To believe in 
luck is to build your house upon the sand,” he 
replied, emphasizing his words with a thump 
of his neatly rolled umbrella. “ There are 
matters, like the throws in a game of back- 
gammon, which are beyond our control, and 
which go now for us and now against us, ac- 
cording to some law we do not understand, and 
with which therefore we have no concern. 
But often what seems at one moment most un- 
lucky turns out at the next through a new com- 
bination of circumstances to be fortunate.” 

Susan’s blue eyes were fixed on the colonel’s 
face. It was an interesting thought that bad 
fortune might turn out to be good after all. 

With an air of having settled the question, 
he returned to business and the sideboard. 
This was indeed a dilapidated piece of furni- 
ture, so forlorn that it had been banished to 
the back porch, where the chickens sometimes 
roosted in it. A gentleman with plenty of 
money couldn’t have any use for a thing hke 


S26 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


this, Mrs. Self was confident, and Susan 
agreed with her. But Colonel Brand seemed 
interested. He said if she was willing to sell 
he would send a cabinet maker to look at it. 

Susan thought he must be very anxious to 
help the Selfs, but Holliday said he liked old 
things. They were the fashion, she added, and 
you called them antiques. 

Susan thought over what the colonel had 
said about luck in the light of her own experi- 
ence, and came to the conclusion that it was 
true. There was Aline’s secret that cost her 
so much, and yet if it had not been for it 
Aline would not have been grateful and tried 
to make up by explaining to Dick, so that he 
was ready to meet her more than halfway. 

“Joe, perhaps your bad luck will turn into 
good. It does sometimes,” she observed reas- 
suringly that evening. 

Joe shook his head. “ I am afraid not. 
Your Shyness. I’m a bad lot. It seems to 
me,” he added, “ that if I had one more chance 
I’d buckle down and do my best and amount 
to something, but maybe I wouldn’t.” 

This tone of humility was new, and it caused 
Susan to wish more earnestly than ever that 


BEING A SISTER 


327 


she had some money. Then she remembered 
her candlesticks. They were very old; would 
Colonel Brand like to buy them? Holliday 
said all sorts of old things, in furniture, silver 
and china. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE LOST LENORE 

’Tis strange indeed without a doubt, 

How cherished secrets sometimes out. 

Perhaps Susan ought to have known better, 
or at least she should have asked advice of 
some one, but feeling that her candlesticks 
were her own to do as she pleased with, and 
being naturally a reserved little person, she 
did not mention it even to Mother, who had 
enough to worry her. 

She thought about it for several days before 
she really made up her mind to go to see the 
colonel. She was very much afraid of him and 
of Christmas Tree House, but she wanted so 
earnestly to help Joe, that this desire overcame 
to some degree the fear. She had not the 
least idea of the value of her candlesticks nor 
the amount of her brother’s debts, but her 
hopes soared high in the shape of a beautiful 
air-castle. How surprised and grateful Joe 
would be, and Father perhaps would cheer up, 

and Mother get a new bonnet instead of wear- 
328 


THE LOST LENORE 


329 


ing her last winter’s one. Of course Susan was 
a goose, but who isn’t sometimes? and her ex- 
perience with money was small. 

Susan would have liked to tell Holliday and 
ask her to go with her, but this was a family 
matter, of which she felt she could not speak 
even to her best friend. 

So it happened that one afternoon, with her 
candlesticks carefully wrapped in tissue paper, 
she stood before the colonel’s stately front 
door, her heart beating very fast indeed. 
From between the massive pillars the street 
looked unfamiliar, and she felt exceedingly 
small and far away. Suppose some one she 
knew should pass and look up ! Holliday was 
safely at the dentist’s, and Bessie had gone 
home with Lily for over Sunday, but — wasn’t 
that the Brocade Lady coming? Susan with- 
drew to the farthest corner of the vestibule. 
Her courage was oozing away. After the 
Brocade Lady was safely by without looking 
in her direction, she began to hope Colonel 
Brand was not at home. 

He was, however, and a solemn butler,' — a 
white man, which seemed odd, — showed her 
into a large room which was as full of things 


330 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


as the Browinski parlor. There were no 
painted banners or gilded stools, but the walls 
were covered with paintings, there were richly 
carved cabinets and vases as tall as herself, 
bronzes, embroidered screens and hangings, 
uniting in an effect of soft, rich color. A 
great change had taken place in the house 
since that day more than a year ago when she 
and Holliday and Lily had so unexpectedly 
found themselves shut in there. 

Susan sat timidly on the edge of a chair and 
little shivers began to creep up and down her 
spine as she thought of the room across the 
hall where the mysterious Christmas tree stood. 
She actually started to her feet at the sound 
of a musical chime which announced three 
o’clock. As she sat down again the quiet 
grew oppressive and she remembered that 
strange dark man she and Holliday had seen 
entering the basement door on Christmas Eve. 
Suppose — But what was that queer pit-pat, 
and that sound of heavy breathing? Again 
Susan’s heart was in her throat. The next 
minute she almost laughed with relief as the 
benevolent eyes of Dane, the colonel’s big dog, 
looked up at her. 


THE LOST LENORE 


331 


She put her arms around his neck and he 
tried to lick her face. She didn’t feel afraid 
now, hut she presently began to wonder if 
Colonel Brand could possibly care for her 
candlesticks when he already possessed so 
many beautiful things. 

If the master of Christmas Tree House was 
surprised to see his small visitor, he did not 
betray it, but asked her pardon for keeping 
her waiting, with as ceremonious a politeness 
as if she had been the Brocade Lady. Some 
persons are always seen to the best advantage 
in their own homes, and this must have been 
true of the colonel, for he seemed bent upon 
putting his caller at ease, taking her along the 
hall to his library, where hundreds of books im- 
parted a friendliness to the atmosphere. 
Dane, who accompanied them, stretched him- 
self at ease before the wood fire, looking from 
Susan to his master as if to ask, ‘‘ Now isn’t 
this pleasant?” 

“ Dane likes company,” the colonel re- 
marked, placing a chair for her. Then he 
went on to speak of the weather and about the 
alterations he heard were to be made at St. 


552 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


Mark’s, until Susan despaired of ever getting 
to her business. 

Finally, with some abruptness she stated it. 
‘‘ I brought some candlesticks to show you,” 
she said, with very pink cheeks. “ I heard you 
liked old things, and they are very old. They 
belonged to my great-great-grandmother.” 
She unrolled the tissue paper as she spoke. 

Colonel Brand took the one she held out to 
him. “ It is very nice,” he said. “ Is it your 
own? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” she answered, wondering if he 
thought she would sell other people’s candle- 
sticks. 

‘‘ If they have been in your family so long, 
it seems a pity to part with them,” he re- 
marked, setting the candlestick on the table 
and looking gravely at Susan. 

“ I don’t care much for old things,” she said. 
‘‘ I’d rather have the money.” 

“ I should hardly suppose little girls like 
you had much use for money, except perhaps 
for candy.” 

The color in Susan’s cheeks deepened. Did 
he think her such a little girl? “ I don’t want 
it for myself at all/’ she explained. 


THE LOST LENORE 


“ Ah, you wish to help some one, I suppose.” 

“ Yes,” faltered Susan, “ I want to help my 
brother.” The next minute she wished des- 
perately that she had not said it. She rose. 
“ I guess I oughtn’t to have come,” she said. 
“ I am afraid Mother will not like it.” 

“ It was quite right for you to come,” the 
colonel assured her. “ Sit down again; I want 
to show you something. I have some candle- 
sticks very much like these.” He went to a 
tall cabinet which Susan directly faced, and 
opened one of its doors, when, of all astonish- 
ing things! out tumbled Lenore. The colonel 
caught her, thus no doubt saving her life, and 
stood holding her awkwardly, looking like a 
sheepish schoolboy. 

Susan gave one little exclamation, then tried 
to appear as if she thought it the most natural 
thing in the world for dignified gentlemen to 
have dolls in their possession. Dane rose from 
the hearth rug and advancing, sniffed in a lofty 
manner at Lenore’s skirts. 

With the doll under his arm, the colonel 
shut the door of the cabinet, apparently for- 
getting what he had come for. While his back 
was turned, Susan indulged in a little smile, he 


334 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


looked so funny, and she was caught in the 
act. 

“ I suppose it is funny,” he said rather 
tragically, placing Lenore on the sofa. “ You 
see I intended it for my niece whom I had not 
seen for some years. It seems I had not taken 
into account the flight of time, for the day 
after I bought the doll I received the news of 
her expected marriage. Rather a joke, wasn’t 
it? I haven’t the least idea what to do with 
it now.” 

Susan really felt sorry for the colonel. She 
knew what it was to fear being laughed at. 
But he looked absurdly helpless. “ I didn’t 
know you bought it,” she said. ‘‘We won- 
dered and wondered what had become of her.” 

He had sent a man over, he explained, 
adding that probably she didn’t know any one 
who wanted a doll. 

Know any one? “ Why, Susie Flynn would 
just love her! ” Susan cried. 

What a sociable little party they made in 
this handsome but austere room. Her Sh}"- 
ness and the colonel facing each other in large 
armchairs, conversing pleasantly, Dane on his 
haunches before them gazing inquiringly from 



‘“I SUPPOSE IT IS FUNNY,’ HE SAID RATHER TRAGICALLY.” 






THE LOST LENORE 


385 


one to the other, while Lenore, beautiful as 
ever, though slightly rumpled as to clothes, 
rested placidly on the sofa. 

Susan explained who Susie was, and her host 
asked questions about her and other matters, 
and somehow Miss Margaret’s name came in 
more than once. 

To return to the candlesticks,” the colonel 
said presently, taking from Susan the one she 
held and proceeding to wrap the two together, 
“ you must not sell them. You would be 
sorry some day. By the way, your brother is 
Joseph Maxwell, who used to be in our bank, 
is he not? ” 

Susan said “ Yes,” and added, “ If you 
should hear of another place I hope you will 
let him have it. I think if he had another 
chance he would do better? ” 

“Why do you think so?” The colonel 
looked at her intently. 

“ Because he is sorry, and he isn’t so sure 
about things.” She found it difficult to ex- 
press what she meant, and concluded lamely, 
“ He is very good to me.” 

“ I am glad to hear it. He is a lucky fel- 
low.” 


336 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

What would Joe have said to this? Lucky! 

I will keep him in mind,” the colonel went 
on, “ and if I hear of something, and I rather 
expect to. I’ll let him know. But don’t 
worry your head about it.” His glance was 
very kindly as he placed the candlesticks in 
her hand. 

“ Thank you,” Susan said, rising, “ and it 
was very good of you to buy our doll.” She 
hesitated a moment and then added, “ If I were 
you I’d tell about it and let them laugh. It 
is really the best way. Miss Margaret says.” 

The colonel regarded her quizzically. “ I 
have no doubt she is right,” he replied. 

Susan went home with a very light heart, 
glad on the whole that she had not sold her 
heirlooms, and feeling somehow confident that 
Colonel Brand would find something for her 
brother. The more she thought of it the more 
certain she became that Mother would not have 
approved of her going to Colonel Brand’s, and 
presently she began to wonder how she had 
ever dared to do it. Yet he was very kind and 
pleasant. Joe was mistaken about him. 

That very evening Mother remarked at the 
tea-table, that poor Mrs. Brown was trying to 


THE LOST LENORE 


337 


sell her family silver, and Father replied, 
“ You don’t say so! I did not suppose it had 
come to that.” 

Was it then a disgrace to sell your silver? 
Susan felt uncomfortable. 


CHAPTER XXIX 
joe’s luck 

Experience to all doth teach 
There’s ever something out of reach. 

From the sofa corner, with pillows tucked 
behind her and a Roman blanket over her feet, 
Susan watched Silvy brushing up the crumbs 
and restoring order after dinner. The fish- 
woman looked down with her complacent smile, 
the fire crackled softly; the winter sunshine 
streamed in through the bay window full of 
thrifty plants, and within easy reach lay a new 
story-book. Susan heaved a sign of content. 
What more could an invalid desire? — unless it 
was a visitor, and Holliday was coming pres- 
ently. 

Being ill is a trying experience, but getting 
well is at times a delightful process. Susan 
had just escaped pneumonia. Dr. Thomas said, 
but the point was, she had escaped, and was 
now recovering so rapidly that she had been 
allowed to come down to the dining-room on 
condition she stayed on the sofa. 

338 


JOE’S LUCK 


339 


She had felt very weak and languid as she 
stood before the mirror to tie the blue bows 
which J oe declared made her look like herself 
again, but now, after chicken soup and other 
nourishing viands, she began to feel as she 
looked. 

Silvy placed a bowl of pink roses on the 
table and dusted the hearth as a final touch, and 
Susan said, “ Send Wynkyns in after he has 
his dinner, please, Silvy.’’ How lovely those 
roses were ! They had come last evening with 
Colonel Brand’s card in the box. 

The thing Susan was most happy about, 
however, was not the roses, lovely as they were, 
but some news Joe brought home shortly be- 
fore their arrival. He had come running up- 
stairs two steps at a time and into Susan’s 
room, where F ather was reading his paper and 
Mother embroidering, with something like his 
old gayety. 

“ Well, how’s Your Shyness, this evening? ” 
he asked, and then walked to the fireplace and 
stood gazing into it for a full minute without 
speaking. 

Mother asked if it was cold out, and he re- 
plied, “ Not particularly.” Then, facing 


340 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

about, he announced abruptly, ‘‘ Well, I’ve got 
a place.” 

Father lowered his paper. Mother dropped 
her scissors, and Susan, sitting up, exclaimed, 
‘‘ Joe, I am so glad! I just knew it.” 

“ I’d like to know what you know about it? ” 
Joe said, smiling down on her. 

“ Well, we’re waiting,” put in Father, a lit- 
tle as if he doubted whether there was much 
to hear. 

Joe sat down on the side of Susan’s couch 
and took possession of one of her hands. He 
seemed to find it difficult to begin. “ It isn’t 
anything great,” he said, adding with a laugh, 
“ Not that I am likely to have a great offer, 
but it’s a chance.” 

“ Well,” said Father, impatiently, ‘‘ who 
offers it, whatever it is? ” 

‘‘ Colonel Brand. I’ll take hack some of 
the things I have said about him. He was 
very kind. He sent for me to come to his 
office and we had a long talk. He said he 
knew people often made mistakes at the start 
and that he had an idea — dear knows where 
he got it — that if I had another chance I’d 
make good. Anyway, he said he was willing 


JOE’S LUCK 


341 


to try me if I was willing to undertake a tough 
piece of work.” 

‘‘ And you will try hard this time, won’t 
you? ” Susan squeezed the fingers that clasped 
hers. 

I am ashamed to make any more prom- 
ises, Susan Hermione, but I am going to try,” 
J oe answered, and he went on to explain that 
the position the colonel offered him was in a 
small Western mining town. It meant lone- 
liness and hardship as well as responsibility, 
for a year or two, with a prospect of something 
well worth while in the future for the man who 
faithfully filled the place. 

‘‘ By the way, when did you come to be such 
a friend of Colonel Brand’s? ” Joe interrupted 
himself to ask. “ When I thanked him and 
said I’d be glad to try, but should like to speak 
to my father first, he smiled and said it was 
my resemblance to my sister, or something of 
the sort, that made him think of offering it to 
me.” 

Susan looked embarrassed. “ I’m not much 
of a friend, but I think he is very kind.” 

I didn’t suppose you knew him at all, 
Susan,” Mrs. Maxwell remarked. “ Joe, dear. 


342 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

I can’t bear the thought of your going so far 
away.” 

“ I am afraid you will be happier without 
me, Mother Kitty,” Joe answered humbly. 
“What do you think of it. Father?” and he 
went into further particulars. 

“ It seems like a fine chance for the right 
person, my boy.” 

“ I can’t expect you to believe in me just 
yet, but if you don’t object I am going to try 
it,” Joe said. 

“ And now tell us what you had to do with 
it, Susan?” demanded her father, who had 
been watching her face. 

There was no help for it, the whole story 
had to come out. Though she told it with fear 
and trembling, her conscience grew lighter 
with every word. 

“ Your great-grandmother’s candlesticks, 
Susan, and you said nothing to me! I can’t 
understand it. What must Colonel Brand 
have thought! ” Mother’s face grew crimson. 

Joe, too, was aghast. “ Good heavens, 
Susan ! He must think we are paupers. And 
you to do a thing like that.” 

“ I told him I heard he liked old things, and 


JOE’S LUCE 


34S 


then when he asked why I wanted to sell them 
I had to tell him. I couldn’t help it, really 
Joe, — and he didn’t think that, — and then I 
asked him if he heard of anything to let you 
know. I’m sorry.” Tears filled Susan’s eyes 
and her voice choked. 

‘'And the silliness of it!” cried Joe, not 
noticing the tears. “ How much do you think 
those candlesticks would have brought? ” 

“ Not unnaturally she put too low an esti- 
mate upon the amount of debt a young man 
would be willing to assume,” Father broke in 
coolly. “ I can’t see that there is any harm 
done,‘ — you aren’t disgraced, Kitty. Don’t 
cry, Susan. If you made a slight mistake, at 
least your brother owes something to it. On 
the whole it strikes me the game is worth the 
candlesticks, as it turns out.” Mr. Maxwell 
was inclined to take the matter humorously. 

But Susan, being weak from her illness, cried 
so hard they all had to unite in pacifying her. 
Mother acknowledged that selling a pair of old 
candlesticks was not so bad as having to part 
with the family silver service, as in Mrs. 
Brown’s case. 

“ But you, Susan! How did you ever have 


344 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

the face to do it? That is what gets me,” Joe 
exclaimed, as Susan dried her tears. 

“ I think I understand,” said Father, touch- 
ing her brow with his lips in a caress rather rare 
with him. 

“ I am glad you told Colonel Brand, Susan, 
that you had not consulted any one,” said Mrs. 
Maxwell. 

Then the roses were brought in. This was 
not exactly the attention paid to paupers. 
Father pointed out, and Joe said that Susan 
had certainly made an impression on the 
colonel, and maybe she would be Mrs. Colonel 
when he came home on a visit from Colorado. 

Susan couldn’t help laughing at this absurd 
idea. 

She was thinking of all this and looking at 
her roses, when the door opened to admit Hol- 
liday, her cheeks glowing from the frosty air, 
and Wynkyns in her arms. 

“ My darling Susan,” she cried, spilling 
Wynk on the Roman blanket and stooping to 
hug her. “ I can’t live another day without 
you. Everything is too stupid. Why, you 
don’t look sick a bit, — I should say ill. Aunt 
Nan is forever telling me about it. I am sure. 


JOE’S LUCK 


345 


though, sick is in the Bible, and Mr. Bright 
says it is a something of pure English,— a well, 
was it? ” 

“ You sound like Lily with your ‘ some- 
thing,’ ” Susan said, laughing. “ I am not ill 
or sick either, but almost as well as ever. Do 
please tell me everything that has happened.” 

Holliday drew up a footstool to the sofa. 
“ Well,” she said, ‘‘ the first thing is that Colo- 
nel Brand is a dear, with his hand organs and 
monkeys, and buying Lenore without a word 
to anybody. Miss Margaret told you about 
that, didn’t she? Papa laughed and laughed 
when he heard it, and he will tease the colonel ; 
I can’t make him stop. And Susan, it is too 
bad you couldn’t have seen Susie Flynn! She 
was so happy she couldn’t say anything at first ; 
she simply hugged Lenore and smiled.” 

Miss Margaret had told Susan about the 
colonel’s coming to see her and telling the story 
of the purchase of the doll, and that he wished 
her to be given to Susie. Evidently he had not 
mentioned Susan in the connection at all, for 
which she was grateful. 

“ And then Miss Julia’s wedding. It is a 
shame you had to miss that,” Holliday went 


346 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


on. “ Of course you have heard about it.” 

‘‘ Joe said Miss Julia looked dandy,” Susan 
answered, smiling, “ and she sent me a piece 
of wedding cako to dream on, and some other 
good things, which I was too sick to eat.” 

Holliday was in the midst of a graphic de- 
scription of the wedding when Silvy an- 
nounced Aline Arthur. Susan would have 
preferred to have Holliday by herself. Still, 
as they all agreed. Aline was nicer than she 
used to be, and in an odd way of her own she 
showed a real friendship for Susan. To-day 
she had a basket of country dainties for the in- 
valid. She talked very little but coaxed 
Wynk into her lap, and sat and stroked him 
while she listened to the others. 

Then Lily arrived, arrayed in her new blue 
velvet suit, which became her blonde beauty ex- 
tremely well. She was out making calls with 
her grandmother, something she adored. Last 
of all came Miss Margaret, who stayed after 
the others left, waiting for the Brocade Lady, 
who was to stop on her way from the infirmary. 

So it happened that Joe found her chatting 
with Susan in the firelight. Like Aline, for 
some reason, he found very little to say, but 


JOE’S LUCK 347 

then he had not been like himself of late. Miss 
Margaret asked about the new position and 
congratulated him upon the opportunity it of- 
fered. If she were a man she certainly would 
go west, she said, and then she went on to 
prophesy gayly that he would come back to see 
them some day as Senator Maxwell. 

Joe did not seem pleased. He remarked 
that he thought his friends were a little too 
eager to resign him to a life in the wilderness. 
The prospect was not pure delight to him. 
Susan looked at him in surprise. 

Miss Margaret lifted her brows. Is not 
that a foolish way to tajk? ” she asked severely. 
“ What sort of friends would they be who were 
not glad when a chance like this came to you? 
We can be glad to have you go and yet miss 
you very much at the same time. Can we not, 
Susan? ” 

When she left Susan’s sharp ears heard her 
say to Joe in the hall, “ Don’t think me unkind 
in what I said to you the other night. I want 
to be your friend. I am going to be, even 
though you think you do not care for my 
friendship, and the time will come when you 
will see that I am right.” 


348 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

More than once Susan had wondered about 
Joe and Miss Margaret; she was weighing 
these words when Joe returned with Mother, 
and began to tell them about his last interview 
with Colonel Brand. 

It seemed the colonel had spoken plainly. 
There was little hope of success for a man who 
put his pleasures before his duty, who counted 
on luck, and lacked strength to deny himself. 
“ Digging is not easy work, but if you would 
have a good foundation you must dig for it,” 
said the colonel. 

“ That is like our Wise Man,” commented 
Susan. 

“ I trust my boy is going to be a wise man 
after this,” Mother said, patting his shoulder. 

Joe accepted all the sermons and good ad- 
vice with a wonderful meekness. He had been 
in the habit of considering Joe Maxwell a very 
good fellow, and prided himself upon being 
unselfish, by which he meant that he was lav- 
ish with his money when he had it, and some- 
times when he hadn’t. Now he was beginning 
to see that all his life he had been doing just 
those things that it pleased him to do. Flow- 
ers for Mother and candy for Susan were 


JOE’S LUCK 


349 


pleasant attentions, of course, if he could af- 
ford them, but after all the greatest kindness 
he could do them or any of his friends was to 
attend to his plain duty day by day. 

“ You perhaps look upon me as a fortunate 
man,” Colonel Brand told him, “ but I would 
give all I possess for family ties like yours and 
for your gift for making friends.” 

Mother went upstairs, and Joe remained 
staring rather soberly into the fire. 

What made you cross to Miss Margaret, 
Joe? ” Susan ventured. 

At first he did not answer, then he came and 
sat down by Susan and put his head down on 
her pillow. “ I have been an awful fool. Your 
Shyness,” he said. “ She doesn’t care any- 
thing about me. She thinks I am only a boy. 
She wouldn’t care if I were going to the Can- 
nibal Islands. Now don’t you breathe this, 
Susan,” he added. 

Susan rumpled his hair and comforted him 
to the best of her ability, feeling quite old and 
wise. She was sorry, and yet if Miss Mar- 
garet married Joe she would have to go to 
Colorado. 

Later, a scrap of conversation between her 


550 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

father and mother showed that Joe’s secret was 
guessed by others. 

“ Margaret is years older than J oe in wis- 
dom and experience,” Mother said. 

“ I must own he has good taste,” Father re- 
plied. 

“ I am sorry for the boy,” Mother added. 

“ It won’t hurt him a bit, Kitty,” Father in- 
sisted heartlessly. “ He isn’t half so badly 
hurt as he thinks he is. Don’t you coddle 
him.” 

What Father meant by “ coddling ” was not 
clear. He was himself most attentive to Joe 
in these days, while Mother carefully consid- 
ered his taste in the matter of things to eat. 

As for the young man himself, as he went 
about his preparations he was not sunk in as 
hopeless a melancholy as might have been ex- 
pected. It took much to down completely 
Joe’s buoyant spirit. 


CHAPTER XXX 


LOOK IN A BOOK 

The old gray parrot winked an eye. 

As queer as queer could be, 

“ Look in a book, — look in a book. 

You’ll find it,” — thus spake he. 

What a quiet household it would be with 
just Mother and Father and Susan! As the 
time for Joe’s departure drew near they be- 
gan to realize how much his cheery ways and 
light-hearted presence meant in their small 
family. Joe said he would think of them each 
evening sitting with their backs to the light 
around the dining-room table, Mother with 
her crocheting, Father lost in his paper, and 
Susan in a book. “ However,” he added, 
“ Susan Hermione is getting to be quite a con- 
versationalist.” 

There will be nobody to call me Susan 
Hermione now,” exclaimed the owner of the 
nickname with a sigh, forgetting how she used 
to dislike it. 

“ I am not going out of the world just yet,” 

351 


. S52 EVERYDAY SUSAN 

replied her brother. “ I shall write occasion- 
ally" 

“Joe, don’t you dare to put Susan Her- 
mione on a letter. Mother, tell him not to,” 
cried Susan. 

“ What shall I do with those old law 
books? ” Mother wanted to know. “ They are 
on the shelf in your closet. Would it not be a 
good idea to take them to Self and Son’s? 
You won’t get anything for them, but I shall 
not have to takei care of them and see that they 
are dusted.” 

So this was the end of Joe’s bright dream of 
reading law in secret and surprising Father. 
Though neither mentioned it, both he and 
Susan thought of it on their way to the second- 
hand book shop. When it was possible Susan 
kept pretty close to Joe in these days. 

The parrot to-day was unusually energetic. 
He had been showing his age of late, but now 
he swung head down from the roof of his cage 
and exhorted them to look in a book, in a per- 
fect frenzy of earnestness. 

“Well, Polly, we’ll look if you will just 
keep still,” said Susan, laughing. “ You 
might have left some papers in them, Joe.” 


LOOK IN A BOOK 


353 


‘‘ I guess not,” Joe replied, but he fluttered 
the leaves of the volume he had just laid down, 
and turning it over, hit it smartly against the 
edge of the counter. A narrow slip of folded 
paper fell out as he did so. Susan picked it 
up. 

It was very thin paper and had been folded 
and creased again and again, as such a bit of 
paper is often treated in absence of mind. “ It 
is nothing,” said Joe. ‘‘ Just a marker.” But 
Susan began unfolding it. 

‘‘ There is some writing on it,” she answered. 
‘‘See! ‘Received of’ — oh, Joe, look! — 
‘ Henry Kennedy,’ and down at the bottom — 
isn’t it — ” 

Joe took the paper from her hand. “ ‘ Anne 
Carrol.’ Susan, I believe this must be that 
lost receipt, but to be absolutely certain, I am 
going to take it to the bank and have Mrs. 
Carrol’s signature verifled.” 

Half an hour later Joe and Susan were 
mounting the steps at the Brocade Lady’s. 

“ Do you want me to go? ” Susan had asked. 

“ Why, of course, Hermie. If it had not 
been for you, I should not have found it at 
all.” 


354 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


“ It wasn’t I, it was Polly,” she said, laugh- 
ing. “Won’t Miss Margaret be glad!” 

“ Think of its having been on my table all 
last winter ! ” added her brother. 

At the sound of Margaret’s descending foot- 
steps as they waited in the sitting-room, Joe 
held the paper out to Susan. “ You give it to 
her,” he said. 

Susan put her hands behind her back, and 
shook her head. On the way Joe had thought 
of a number of appropriate things to say, but 
now he forgot them all and was strangely em- 
barrassed, for him. Margaret looked from 
him to Susan in surprise, stopping short in the 
midst of her greeting. 

“ I — we — have brought you something,” Joe 
stammered, handing her the paper. “ It’s all 
right. I took it to the bank.” 

Margaret took the paper and looked at it, 
and then up at Joe. “ It — you don’t mean? — ^ 
it can’t be — ” The color all left her face, and 
she sat down in the nearest chair. The hand 
that held the receipt trembled. 

“ Yes, Margaret, it is — the lost receipt. 
Tell her, Susan. We found it, Susan and I. 
I took it to the bank. It is all right.” 


“LOOK IN A BOOK 


355 


Margaret looked at the paper again. ‘‘ I 
can’t read it,” she said helplessly, ‘‘ but you 
wouldn’t tell me what was not so.” 

“ No, Peggy, you know I wouldn’t,” said 
J oe, and he looked very big and manly stand- 
ing beside her. “ This is my parting gift to 
my old friend, and if I had been of any ac- 
count I should have found it long ago.” 

It was all made clear at length. Margaret’s 
color began to return, and she pressed Susan’s 
hand and smiled at her. “ Forgive me for be- 
ing so silly, — but I have waited so long, it is 
hard to believe it has come at last, — and Joe 
found it,” she repeated, smiling up at him. 
“ How can I ever thank you? How often I 
have seen my father fold a bit of paper in this 
way as he talked,” she added. 

“ I owe you far more than you owe me,” Joe 
told her. “ But I can’t tell you how glad I 
am that I was the one to find it. Good-by, 
Peggy. I mean to be worthy of your friend- 
ship.” 

Margaret’s eyes were full of tears. “ Good- 
by, dear, dear J oe,” she said. 


CHAPTER XXXI 

THE BROCADE LADY’s SON 

Be it late, or be it soon, 

Patient waiting wins its boon. 

“ Do you remember last Christmas Eve, 
Susan, and how much fun we had with Mr. 
Joe?” asked Holliday. 

“Don’t I?” sighed Susan. “I miss him 
dreadfully, but we have such nice letters from 
him. He wants Mother and me to come out 
to see him next summer.” 

Browinski’s windows, which they were pass- 
ing, were as alluring as ever. Times might be 
hard, but there was little evidence of it around 
Browinski’s at Christmas. Sophy Idelle stood 
in the door and ran out to speak to them. She 
went to a convent school in Baltimore now, and 
her manner was patronizing, as of one who en- 
joyed a wider experience. 

“ Sophy Idelle looks more like Julius Csesar 
than ever,” Holliday remarked. “ I wonder if 
Colonel Brand is coming home for Christmas? ” 
she added as they approached his house. 

356 


THE BROCADE LADY’S SON 


357 


“ Will you ever forget that queer man we 
saw there last year? ” Susan was saying, when 
a cab passed them and stopped before the gate. 

“ There he is now,” answered Holliday, 
meaning the colonel, but who was the person 
who followed him from the carriage? 
“ Susan! ” she exclaimed, under her breath. 

Susan in her turn exclaimed, “Holliday!” 
for there before their eyes was that same dark 
man in the same queer cloak. 

“ There is some mystery about him, Susan, 
mark my words,” Holliday said impressively. 

The front door closed behind the colonel and 
his guest, leaving the mystery unsolved for the 
present, and the girls had to separate at the 
corner, as Holliday’s aunt wanted her at home. 
Susan was going on to the Brocade Lady’s. 

Miss Margaret was fastening a wreath in the 
sitting-room window. “ I am so glad to see 
you,” she said. “ The Brocade Lady has gone 
to the orphanage for the afternoon and I am 
decorating in her absence.” 

The pleasant odor of pine pervaded the 
place, and on the table stood a little tree in a 
pot. “You can help me trim this,” she said. 

Susan was happy to help, and they were 


S58 


EVERYDAY SUSAN' 


having a charming time over it and she was in 
the midst of telling about the man she and 
Holliday had seen, both last Christmas Eve 
and this, when Colonel Brand was shown in. 

It was clear from his manner that something 
unusual had occurred. He seemed almost ex- 
cited. Margaret’s first thought was that some- 
thing had happened to the Brocade Lady ; but 
no, he had come to see her, it seemed. He 
shook hands with them both and sat down. 

“ I am going to surprise the Brocade .Lady 
with a Christmas tree,” Margaret explained. 

“Yes?” he responded, in an absent way. 
Then he added, “ I, too, have a surprise for 
her.” 

Margaret dropped the little silver ornament 
she held, and looked at him with wide-open 
eyes. 

Colonel Brand stooped and picked it up. 
“ You knew, I suppose, that she has a son? ” 

“ Yes, — only recently. Has he — ” 

“ He has come back to her at last.” 

“ Is he here ? ” Margaret glanced at the door. 

“ He is with me, — at my house. It seemed 
best to prepare his mother, after such a long 
waiting.” 


THE BROCADE LADY’S SON 


359 


“ And is he — will she be happier now he is 
found? ” Margaret asked. 

‘‘Would not anything be better than this 
long-continued waiting? It is true,” he con- 
tinued, “ that he is much broken in health. He 
has led a strange, roving life, for the most part 
in the far East, part of the time acting as 
war correspondent for an English paper. He 
was once severely wounded, and suff ers acutely 
at times as a result.” 

“ But why has he stayed away all these 
years? ” Margaret’s voice was full of reproach 
for this unknown man. 

“ When the spirit of wandering possesses a 
man, there is no accounting for him,” the colo- 
nel replied. “ And when a high-spirited, sensi- 
tive boy is turned from his father’s house for a 
piece of childish folly which most parents 
would overlook entirely, you can scarcely won- 
der at his vow never to return.” 

“ I knew nothing of that,” said Margaret. 

“ Yes, his father was unthinkably harsh with 
his only son. I have an idea that our friend 
came back here to live, chiefly for the reason 
that there would be nothing to remind her son 
of his unhappy boyhood whenever he should 


360 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


return, as she always believed that he would.” 

“ And you found him and brought him 
home? ” asked Margaret. 

“ That,” the colonel replied, “ is rather a long 
story. I got on his track some years ago, and 
finally stumbled upon him by chance in Egypt. 
I prevailed upon him to return to this country 
with me. We had been friends in our boyhood 
and I have a certain infiuence over him. I 
was called away by important business, a year 
ago, and he came out here and actually stayed 
in my house like a hermit for a week, then sud- 
denly disappeared. An outbreak of the old 
trouble caused by his wound brought on an at- 
tack of extreme depression. He found him- 
self unwilling to go to his mother, empty 
handed and a wreck, as he put it, so he ran 
away. I only heard of him again last month.” 

“ Are you certain he will not run away 
again? ” 

“ I think so. He has lately been making a 
collection of poems which for years have ap- 
peared here, there, and everywhere, and he is 
as pleased as a child over the little book, which 
he has dedicated to his mother.” 

Susan listened to all this with eager interest. 


THE BROCADE LADY’S SON 


361 


So here was the explanation of the stranger 
they had seen entering the colonel’s house. 

“ What a friend you have been! ” Miss Mar- 
garet said, as Colonel Brand rose. 

He looked embarrassed, and murmured, 
“ Not at all.” 

“ I think so, too,” said Susan. “ To us all, — 
to the Brocade Lady and to Joe, and to the 
Selfs.” 

Oh, the Selfs,” said he, laughing. ‘‘ I hear 
they are about to bring suit against me. Some 
one has been persuading them that I am tak- 
ing advantage of them.” 

Miss Margaret was highly indignant at this. 
The colonel must have been gratified at the 
warmth with which she expressed herself. 

“ I wonder if anything more will happen 
this year,” Susan said, at the tea-table. 

‘‘Only a week left,” Father remarked. 

“ A good deal can happen in a week,” 
Mother added. 

“ But there isn’t anything left to happen,” 
laughed Susan. 

To Susan and Holliday the Brocade Lady’s 
son seemed a melancholy figure, when they 
peeped at him through the sitting-room door 


S6S 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


on their way up to Aliss Alargaret. A mascu- 
line presence at the Brocade Lady’s was odd 
of itself, and the sight of newspapers strewn 
over the floor still more strange. 

It was impossible not to feel that it would 
have been more satisfactory if the Brocade 
Lady’s son had come back a strong, successful 
man to take care of her for the rest of her 
days, instead of a semi-invalid for her to nurse, 
but she did not regard it so. He was the son 
she had longed for all these years, and to have 
him in a measure dependent on her care added, 
if anything, to her joy. Her pleasure in the 
little volume of poems he brought her was good 
to see. 

This strange, foreign-looking son of hers was 
much discussed in these days, and Colonel 
Brand, when he was by, was his staunch 
friend. The colonel’s stiffness was actually 
giving way to something like geniality. 

In spite of the hard times and Joe’s absence, 
this was a happy Christmas. None of her 
gifts pleased Susan more than a small book 
from Dick Seymour, ‘‘ Selections from Words- 
worth’s Poems,” with a little marker between 
the leaves at Elsie’s verse. 


THE BROCADE LADY’S SON 


363 


“ I think Dick is a very nice boy/’ was Hol- 
liday’s comment. 

Mother thought it showed singular taste for 
a boy, but she did not know about Elsie’s verse. 

And after all, as an extract from the red 
diary will show, there was still something left 
to happen in the week that remained of this 
year. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


FROM THE RED DIARY 

The fire grows cold. 

The year is old 
The story’s told. 

On fleetest wings 
A new year brings 
New happenings. 

When I began this diary, Joe said I 
wouldn’t have any adventures to write down 
in it, and I thought myself, perhaps, I 
shouldn’t; but I have had a good many, and 
now on the few pages that are left I have two 
more exciting things to tell. 

To-morrow is New Year’s Day, and I have 
a new diary to begin, and so has Holliday. We 
are going to write down a beautiful thought 
every day, if nothing else. 

The first exciting thing is about the discov- 
ery of the secret of the Christmas tree. Any- 
body might have found it out if Colonel Brand 
had used the room and left the shutters open 
as the Brocade Lady wanted him to. The per- 
son who really discovered it is Professor De- 
Witt, a friend of Mr. Heywood’s, who has been 

364 


FROM THE RED DIARY 


365 


visiting him. Holliday says he is a scientist, 
and is writing a book with a queer name she 
couldn’t remember. 

The other night I went there to dinner, and 
Miss Margaret was there, too. At the table 
Mr. Heywood told Professor DeWitt about 
the phantom Christmas tree. You might have 
expected him to say “ Nonsense,” but he didn’t, 
but asked a great many questions. Holliday 
told him the story of the children getting 
burned and how their mother lost her mind, 
and he was very much interested. 

Mr. Heywood laughed and wanted to 
know if he believed in ghosts? The professor 
said it depended upon 'what you meant by 
ghosts, and that here was just the soil in which 
they grew, and he asked if it would be possi- 
ble to investigate? 

After dinner who should come in to call but 
Colonel Brand, and Mr. Heywood told him 
Professor DeWitt wanted to see his tree. You 
could see he didn’t like it, but he was very 
polite. The professor said it might serve as 
an illustration for his book. So the Hey- 
woods’ man was sent over to tell them to open 
the shutters of the east parlor. 


366 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


The colonel said he knew it was all imagina- 
tion, growing out of idle servants’ gossip. 
He had seen the tree for a minute once him- 
self, so he thought, but when he came to his 
senses and looked again, it wasn’t there. 

Holliday and I watched and were dreadfully 
afraid there would not be anything to see. We 
had seen it once and we were sure it wasn’t 
imagination. Well, the shutters were opened, 
and sure enough, there was the tree. Every- 
body saw it, the colonel. Aunt Nan, Miss Mar- 
garet, and all. 

Professor DeWitt looked a long time, then 
he said it was a most interesting illusion, and 
he was asking if he might go home with the 
colonel and try an experiment, when suddenly 
the electric street light, which hangs almost in 
front of Christmas Tree House, went out. It 
goes out very often. And when it went out 
the tree went out too! It was the reflection of 
the electric light in the window panes ! 

The windows of Christmas Tree House are 
old-fashioned, with six panes in each sash, and 
the colonel said he had noticed that the glass 
in that window was not plate like the rest, but 
very poor. The window had been broken in 


FROM THE RED DIARY 


367 


a storm a few years ago and Mrs. Carrol had 
the poor glass put in. The Brocade Lady re- 
membered that. 

The professor said it was an unusually per- 
fect illusion, for when the light came back, 
though we knew there wasn’t a tree there 
really, we still saw it, all lighted and hung with 
colored ornaments. 

He said it was a remarkable coincidence that 
it fitted in with the sad story of the house. The 
street light hasn’t been there very long, and 
the house was kept shut up most of the time, 
so the tree was only seen occasionally, and in 
a way that made it seem supernatural. 

Miss Margaret said she thought it was a 
terrible come-down, but the professor said he 
was going to put it in his book. 

I wonder if Mammy Ria will believe it. I 
told Silvy, and she just tossed her head. 

The last thing I have to put down is the 
most exciting of all, besides being a great secret 
between Holliday and me. It happened this 
afternoon. Holliday came around and asked 
me if I didn’t want to visit the Wise Man’s 
grave for the last time, and of course I did. 

They have decided to alter the church; so 


368 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


we can’t have our class there any longer. Mrs. 
Boone is going to let us have a room on the 
back of her lot, that was once used as a studio 
by her son. She is fixing it up beautifully, 
but Lily calls it having school in the stable. 

At the church they were having some sort of 
a meeting in the chapel, and upstairs the or- 
ganist was playing. In our schoolroom Miss 
Margaret was packing up some of her books. 
Since that receipt was found. Miss Margaret 
has looked so happy! 

Holliday and I sat in the window and talked 
about all that had happened since we had been 
friends. She said she thought our friendship 
was founded on a rock, and I think it is a very 
nice idea, for it has stood some storms. Then 
she said, “ Let’s write to Dick.” So we went 
into Mr. Bright’s study and borrowed some 
paper. Miss Margaret had gone, but there 
were pens and ink on her table, still. 

We sat and wrote a long time, and the organ 
kept on sounding, now loud, now soft. Hol- 
liday pulled a screen that Miss Margaret some- 
times uses, in front of us, so no one would see 
us if they chanced to look in, and this made 
it happen just like a story. 


FROM THE RED DIARY 


369 


Suddenly the music stopped, and we heard 
low voices talking. I peeped around the 
screen, and there were Miss Margaret and 
Colonel Brand standing by the grave of the 
Wise Man. She had the loveliest color in her 
face and he looked radiant, Holliday said. 

“ Are you sure you have forgiven me? ” he 
asked, and she turned and held out both hands 
to him, with the dearest smile. 

Of course we came to our senses then and 
didn’t look any more, but just hugged each 
other, and the music began again like every- 
thing. 

We were simply afraid to breathe, but after 
a while, when the music grew quiet, Holliday 
peeped and they had gone. We were so afraid 
we might meet them that we went through the 
Sunday School room and upstairs and out by 
the church door. 

I never once thought of Miss Margaret’s 
marrying the colonel. I was sure it would be 
either Joe or Mr. Bright. The sad thing is 
that if she marries Colonel Brand she won’t 
teach us any more. 

And now, my dear Diary, it is a year and 
three months since I wrote down my wish on 


370 


EVERYDAY SUSAN 


your first page, and there isn’t room for an- 
other word. It is almost midnight, the 
whistles are beginning to blow and the bells to 
ring, which means that a new year is coming 
in. 








SEP 24 19^2 










